I grew up believing family is the heartbeat that steadies us. Birthdays, holidays, random Friday night dinners – those have always been sacred bookmarks reminding me that, no matter how messy life gets, we show up for each other. That’s why this past weekend felt like sunlight and storm clouds all at once.

The girls and I booked a last-minute flight to surprise my Dad for Father’s Day. No countdowns on social media, no hints in the group chat – just a hush-hush plan to watch his face light up the moment he realizes that we were up.

Sunday, my sisters and their families along with myself and my girls all met at Dad’s house to celebrate him because it was Father’s Day. We took family photos – cousin photos; but we were missing a sister and her family. We called, texted, and got silence in return. We later realized that every one of us had been blocked from her social media. My heart thudded with confusion. I just didn’t get it. What did we do that is so bad that she had to feel the need to block not only myself, our 2 other sisters, and my girls (her nieces)? I slept on it. The next morning I sent her a message that read more like a love letter than a question: We are here. We miss you. The girls can’t wait to talk to you. I can’t either.

Her response was raw filled with emotion. She didn’t know we were coming and honestly she said that she’s in her “zero fucks” era. She feels overworked, overlooked, and tired of explaining her whereabouts. The past hurts sit too close to her skin. She mentioned that she was protecting her peace by stepping back.

I took a deep breath and really tried to listen. I may not understand every trigger or tear, but I know that my invitation came from love and not from judgement. I wanted laughter and sloppy hugs, not finger pointing.

What hurts the most are the assumptions – like I am plotting or taking sides. The truth is – I’m just a sister patching cracks with every gently text I send. Our family is gloriously imperfect. We miscommunicate, forget birthdays, and sometimes bruise one another without meaning to. But, I believe in repair, in graces that refuses to give up.

So, here I am, still holding the door open wide. I’m planting my heart between peace-keeping and truth-telling, praying it grows into a bridge. I don’t want to wait for a funeral, wedding, or crisis to remind us to gather. I just want the everyday, ordinary miracle of us choosing to show up for one another.

To my brothers and sisters (if ya’ll ever read this) – know that you were missed far beyond the scope of a photo op. You are woven into our family story and the next chapter is not complete without you. The porch light is on. The kettle’s warm. Your seat is safe.

Maybe next time we will get it right. Until then – I’m choosing love – especially when it costs me something – because that’s the kind of family legacy I want my girls to inherit.