I think this kind of love is the most confusing to me of all. I know that there aren't any guarantees that just because you're born into a family or you're related by blood that you are loved by that family. I have seen families who love each other so much that penetrating that bond can at times be astronomical, and I have seen families who cannot even begin to find compassion for their family member, let alone love them.
It is also without a shadow of a doubt that I know family can also be the ones who can do the most harm to you as well. And in those moments, how do you even begin to understand that love comes from that kind of hurtful relationship? Then of course that goes on to shape your entire idea of love, which is why pain and destruction can often times be found wrapped tightly around love.
I suppose it is true that familial love is the very first kind of love that we experience. Whether it is family by blood, by adoption, or by choice, that love that we so often take for granted does go on to shape who we love and how we love. Some spend a lifetime looking for that kind of love, while others spend a lifetime overcoming it.
The only thing I know for sure is that familial love, for me, is a lot like coming home. When I go home to visit my parents or my brothers or attend a big family event, it is me going home. Keep in mind though, I also am aware, that just because family loves you doesn't necessarily mean they like you. I suppose therein lies the conflict.
What I have come to learn, though, is that as time goes on people change, families grow, love breaks and love strengthens, and love redefines itself, as well as finds a way to redefine us as well.
If at the end of it all, my definition of family grows to include those who are related to me by blood as well as those who are chosen to be my family by choice, I hope that I may have very well learned what it means to love.