A picture of me
I did not learn about family from books, learnt it from watching women who never called themselves teachers, yet taught me everything.
I remember my grandmother, my father’s mother sitting in the courtyard at dusk, her wrapper tied firmly around her waist, her voice steady but never loud. She did not speak too much, but when she did, everyone listened. There was a quiet authority about her, the kind that didn’t demand respect but naturally carried it.
I watched how she treated her daughters-in-law, not with softness all the time, but with structure, with expectation and love, in her world, was not always spoken; it was shown in provision, in discipline, in endurance. That stood out for me
Then, there was my mother’s mother warmer, softer, laughter always sitting at the edge of her lips. Her home felt like an open door, in that she called everyone “my own,” whether by blood or by chance. I remember how she would defend her son-in-law in his absence, how she chose peace over pride. With her, love was spoken, repeated, and wrapped around you like a second skin, it was more than inlaw but inlove.
Two women, two worlds and both strong and flawed.
As a child, I didn’t know I was studying them, but now, I realize I was taking notes.
I saw beauty in discipline, but I also saw how silence could wound. I saw the strength in authority, but I also saw how pride could build distance, also caught a glimpse of the power of warmth, but I understood that too much softness could sometimes blur boundaries
And somewhere in between both women, I began to shape myself.
When I think about the mother-in-law (mother-in-law) I am becoming, I know one thing, do not want to be feared before I am known.
To my daughter-in-law, I want to be a place of safety, not competition, thereby wanting her to come into my son’s life and feel like she gained a family, not entered a test. I will not measure her worth by how well she replaces me, but by how beautifully she becomes herself. I will guide when asked, speak when necessary, but most importantly, I will listen without judging
To my son-in-law, I want to offer respect before expectation. I will not see him as someone who “took” my daughter, but as someone who chose her, and continues to choose her. I will treat him as a son, not in words alone, but in patience, in understanding, in space.
And then, my grandchildren, I want to be their soft place. The one they run to when the world feels too loud, telling them bed time stories not just sweet ones, but honest ones. Stories of where we came from, of strength, of mistakes, of love that survived generations, sing them some lullabies
Because I now understand something my grandmothers never said out loud that family is not just what you inherit, it is what you choose to heal.
And I am choosing, with intention, the kind of woman I will become.
