Oh brother, where art thou?

I've come to a somewhat disturbing realization: I don't know my family. I mean, I know to what family I belong, but aside from my younger sister, I don't know its members in the ways that are truly important. This is especially saddening because I am one of those people that desires to know people as thoroughly as possible. I prefer to keep a smallish circle of friends and have the opportunity to know them really well, as opposed to having many friends with whom my relationship is largely cursory.

So, I usually make a genuine effort to understand those in my inner circle, and yet, those at the very heart of it I have (somehow) missed. I don't think it's for lack of wanting, however. We've never really been big talkers, my family. That, number one, makes things somewhat difficult. There's also the fact that I didn't realize the importance of getting to know my siblings on a one-on-one basis until after I left home. So, here I am 1500 miles away trying to make a life for myself, and they are all in their respective corners of the world attempting to do the same. Life has a funny way of getting in the way.

Even though I lack a solid grasp of the inner workings of my family members, they are all of paramount importance to me. I would do nearly anything for them and on the rare occasions that I see them, my heart is full despite the (general) reality that our conversations aren't.

Why is this all of this so? How can I profess such love for this family that is, on the whole, an enigma? How can I work so hard to build a life and then leave them out of it? This logic of mine is completely askew.

I wonder if any of them feel the way I do, if they too long for more but don't understand how to go about obtaining "it."

The pathetic thing is - since we're such big talkers and all - I probably won't ever ask.