"I hate my ____" ...a bit of a rant...

This could be long, so leave now or bare with me...

In ANY 'family' forums you go to online, in any group of friends, anywhere, really... you read/hear people going "I hate my (mom, dad, step parent, brother, sister, etc)."
But does anyone ever get REALLY sick of hearing it? I mean, really, sick. I'm ALWAYS disgusted when friends say they hate thair parents or siblings.
Think about it. What if they were gone tomorrow? REALLY think about it. Could you still smile and forget about them, because you 'hated' them?

Maybe my family's different. My husband's family is weird to me, because some of them don't talk to each-other, they don't all see each-other often, etc. My family's always been incredibly close and, don't get me wrong, we CAN get mad at each-other from time to time, but we generally stick together through anything.
I have a mom, stepdad, dad, and stepmom. I mostly only really count my mom, stepdad and siblings because I don't see my real dad much, and he was never there. I don't hate him for it, but he was never there, he was always just the man with the money, that wasn't willing to help us out at all... he's getting better, though. I almost never see him because he lives in Florida.

My younger sister (stepdad's daughter) has Autoimmune Hepatitis. It's a form of Hepatitis that isn't contagious, and mostly effects young girls. You're either born with it or you're not, and it either doesn't do anything or does A LOT of damage. Last year, she got incredibly sick. She was living with her mom and stepdad in Edmonton, and we went there for a week to visit her. Not long after, they gave her 2-4 months to live without a liver transplant (the week we were there, it was 3-5 years). We were all incredibly shaken by the whole situation and in July last year, she got her transplant. My stepdad was in the middle of being tested to be a live donor when the liver came in for her. She went through a lot - she was bedridden for almost four months before the transplant, which you can imagine was extremely frustrating for a 15 year old girl. She had to go through physio and strict diet plans to get her healthy and able to even walk, move her arms, etc. again. The entire family pitched in to help pay for my parents' trips to Edmonton, Robyn's medication (whatever insurance didn't pay) and anything else that was needed. Through everything, our youngest sister, Jessica, was probably one of the most supportive little ones there ever could be. She was constantly running around the hospital for Robyn, getting her food (what she was allowed to eat, of course), letting the nurses know if something was going on, making sure she got her medication at the right times, etc. All of the 'little jobs' that she wanted to take on, to feel like she was being a big help to her sister. She (Jessica) also made it a point to meet other kids in the hospital and for Robyn to meet others, as well, so they wouldn't feel so alone. Our family met their families, shared stories, helped each-other out, etc. Mostly thanks to Jessica.

My stepdad (I hate calling him that, so from now on, he's 'dad') is one of the most amazing fathers I've ever met. I met him when I was 12, and my mom married him the day before my 14th birthday. When we met him, right away, he took us in as his children (Robyn and Jess were his - my brother and I are too, now) and never treated us any differently. I always refer to him as 'dad' when I talk about him, and that's what I believe - he was the one that was there, my real father wasn't until my brother and I were grown up. He was there for Robyn through everything, despite having to take excessive amounts of time off work and away from home. Despite not getting along well at all with his ex-wife. He was still there, constantly. He did everything he possibly could for all of us through everything, and I really beleive he's one of the greatest dads ever. His entire life revolved around us and my mom, and he wouldn't have it any other way. He was the one that walked me down the aisle and gave me away at my wedding, when my real father refused to even come up and see me.

And my mom, well, she must be the strongest woman ever, I'm convinced. She took on raising two kids by herself for almost 10 years before she met my dad, and she did a good job at it. When she met my dad, she also took in Robyn and Jess as if they were her daughters. She cleaned up the huge mess from my dad's past - battles with his ex-wife, the follow-up battle of being an ex-alcoholic, doing everything that she could for his daughters despite being constantly ridiculed by his ex-wife (apparently, my mom doesn't know how to raise kids) and other legal battles concerning his past marriage, getting caught up on house payments and bills, etc. We moved in with him, and my mom was added to all of his accounts and straightened things out for him. She made life good again for him, just as he did for us. She was there for Robyn more than Robyn's own mother - helping her bathe, eat, change clothes, clean her room, make her bed, etc. when she was in the hospital. She's always been the one that I could talk to about anything, and both parents always took my friends in as if they were their own kids - most of my friends don't hesitate to call them 'mom' or 'dad'. They feel at home in my parents' house, and some of them still visit my mom even after I've moved out.

On July 11, my dad passed away. My mom was in Spokane taking my brother and best friend to the airport after they spent the week here for my wedding. My dad stayed up late cleaning an antique rifle that he had, and went to bed with the gun in his room. In the morning, he got up and got everything ready for work. He went downstairs to put the rifle back up into the rafters in the basement before he went to work, because he wasn't finished cleaning it. He knew very little about guns, and just assumed that it wasn't loaded because it had been left untouched for years. He was going to put it up in the living room after he cleaned it - just for looks. The gun went off, shooting him in the chest, killing him instantly. Jessica woke up to two loud bangs (one was the gun; the other, his head hitting the metal woodstove vent) and ran upstairs. She was her dad's work stuff out on the table, so she went to the basement again (her bedroom is in the basement) and found him lying on the floor, already dead.
The funeral was a gathering at my mom's house. There were tons of friends, family, and guys that we didn't know - guys from the railroad - he worked for Canadian Pacific straight from high school graduation until the day he died. People came from everywhere, from all around BC and Alberta, all the way to Ontario and Florida. We never realized just how loved he was, until that day - exactly a week after my wedding. I wanted him to walk me down the aisle at my wedding and give me away because I always knew that he was my REAL dad, and I felt like that, in some small way, made it more official. My husband and I didn't go to his viewing (for close family only, so Jessica's last image wouldn't be of him lying dead on the floor) because the last time we had seen him was three days before he died, at our wedding. I couldn't have possibly counted all of the people that were at the funeral, though. His best friend John (they worked together for years) did the eulogy and it was amazing. We've recieved countless cards, letters and pictures of him that we didn't even know existed, from people that we've never even gotten the chance to meet.

Now, my mom has taken on the task of raising his youngest daughter, Jessica, by her own - as a single mother, once again. Told you she was amazing. Jess wanted to stay here and live with my mom because she knows that my mom and I, aside from her and Robyn, were the next closest thing to her dad. Robyn is having complications with her new liver, but we're taking that day-to-day and if we need to, we'll make more trips to Edmonton to be there for her. She's planning to move here when she turns 18, because she can't be far away from a good hospital yet, but wants to be close to my mother, Jessica and myself. My brother is also planning to move here from Florida within the next 8-10 years, because he wants to be closer to his mom and sisters.

So, is it understandable why I get SO mad when people say they hate their families? I mean, we disagree from time to time. I've had screaming matches with all four of my parents at different/various times, same with my siblings. Does this mean I hate them? I couldn't if I tried, I don't have room in my life for such a thing, and they might not either.
What's so wrong with "forgive and forget" these days?

 

wow... i got teary-eyed at your post...

and i also don't like those posts of hating family.. i've had my little problems with my family but in general we get along really well and are really close, without nearly the same circumstances as yours.

 

Thanks, it's nice to hear from someone else that understands.

I'm 18 and Robyn and Jess are 16 and 14. It would be easy for me to say I hate them, that they're just the younger sisters that try to imitate everything that I do, that they steal my clothes and makeup and all that 'I can't stand my little sister' crap... but when I stand back and look at the entire situation, they're exactly like me. Their style, their interests, their attitudes towards life, everything down to the music they listen to... my friends call Jessica "The littlest Nikki" because she's the youngest and SO much like me. We have CD's and clothes and other little things that have travelled between the sisters and myself, and we make it a point to keep them between the three of us, it's a "sister" thing.
And my parents were ALWAYS there. Sure, we've had times where we could NOT stand their nagging and bitching, but again, when you stand back and look at the entire situation, they're just being parents, looking out for ya.

You can just imagine, I've spent A LOT of time with my family - not just close family, but the 30-50 relatives, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, parents, step-parents, siblings, step-siblings, second and third cousins, etc. We're a huge family and we've still managed to stay incredibly close, it just makes me sad when a grown man or woman can't even keep in contact with their own siblings or parents.