I have had the pleasure of having my brother and sister-in law stay with me this past week. As they live and work in the Seychelles I don’t often get to see them. I have a younger brother who lives and works in London, and I see even less of him. Our grandmother died 14 years ago and there was a sense that the glue which held the extended family together was gone. Our mother died about 3 years ago and the sense of fraying family bonds got even more accentuated. She was the one who kept us all informed about what was happening in everyone else’s life, especially us brothers. Maybe it’s a stereotype, but it seems that boys just don’t talk, no matter how old they get. I realise that it takes effort and commitment to keep in touch, to make sure that those familial bonds of love don’t fray so much that they can never be woven together again. Family relationships are not meant to be like desert plants that require little in the way of nourishment and will survive long periods of neglect. That is not the way of human flourishing.
I have one nephew, Owen. A wonderful, bright, sporty young man doing physiotherapy at the University of Stellenbosch. He is a real catch. Ladies, I can give you his number, but it will cost you J I would hate to be an uncle who never hears from his nephew, whose nephew goes through milestones and achievements, and never hear about them. I know that keeping those bonds of love fresh and alive take time and effort and commitment, but I wonder if he does. Maybe these thoughts and ponderings are only the preserve of those who have decades of experience behind them, who have discovered the joys and pains of love, have made mistakes, and learnt from them, but still, I hope that he does know.
Love your children, love your family and friends, and don’t be embarrassed to tell them so. Be lavish in the outpouring of your love, no matter how “old fashioned” it may appear, or how it may make your Anglo-Saxon/Zulu/ (fill in your particular repressed branch of toxic masculinity) uncomfortable. My dad was never one to speak of his feelings, or to tell you that he loved you, until he had a precious grandson. That seemed to unlock the gates of heart and tongue, and from then onwards no conversation was complete without an “I love you”.
The better we learn how to love, and to express love, within the safe confines of family and home, the better our children will be in forming lifelong and lifegiving relations, the more resilient they will be in what is a very lonely world. All the studies show that we human beings are being increasingly isolated and are suffering from a pandemic of loneliness. It’s not just the elderly whose social circle shrinks as their children move away and lifelong friends move on to eternity or other retirement homes. It is our youth at schools and at universities who are struggling to connect in ways that are deep and meaningful, and young professionals busy creating lives away from families of origin, their schools and university circles.
At mass on Sunday during the homily, I may ask all of you to close your eyes and then to put up your hands if you experience any degree of loneliness in your life. I would be surprised if less than half the people put up their hands. If you could see all those raised hands, as I will surely see them, your heart would feel as though a fist were squeezing it, it would become hard to breathe. You would realise that you weren’t alone, that you weren’t somehow strange to feel as you do. Maybe then relief would rush over you, and sadness, and a whole host of other emotions. And you wouldn’t be alone.
