Finding a Second Family

On June 7th, 2007, my parents officially settled in Canada after years of moving around for university, work, and marriage. Canada was the safest option, offering good healthcare, stable housing, and decent work conditions. The only problem? Canada was not the same as Bangladesh.

You couldn’t ride rickshaws to school or randomly pop over to a friend’s house for dahl and rice. Societal norms were different—not worse, just unfamiliar. Especially when you barely knew anyone and made up less than 0.22% of the population. Luckily, my parents had a plan.

When they first met other Bengali families in Edmonton, they made sure we stuck with them—and by stuck, I mean never leaving their side. These families were adjusting just like us. They were also new, feeling cold in the Canadian weather, and unsure of what Canadian life would bring. So, one day, my parents invited them over for chai, and the next thing you know, these friends became family.

3 years later, my twin brother and I were born. Normally, only close relatives would crowd around the hospital crib. In our case, four other families stood, blessing us like we belonged to all of them. And in a way, we did. They raised us through camping trips in mosquito-infested woods, road trips in rented vans, potlucks dripping in spices and laughter, and Eid nights brighter than fireworks.

For children of immigrants, these weren’t just friends. They were lifelines.

If there’s anything I’m most grateful for, it’s that my parents raised us within a community, a safety net that felt like home in a country where we were always translating not just language, but culture.

But close relationships are like glass. Beautiful, fragile, and if one cracks, the whole thing can shatter.

And it did.

We went from telling our family friends everything, to worrying that saying the wrong thing would end up twisted. Gossip, backbiting, and side-eyes became the norm. All it took was one small misunderstanding, and suddenly, years of trust would crumble.

It can start with an unread message, or a joke taken the wrong way. Or worse—someone doesn’t like your social media post. That’s all it takes. Hurt builds quietly, and in close relationships, everything is magnified. One family feels neglected, another feels judged. The spiral begins.

We were a group built on late-night chats and heartfelt conversations, yet we found ourselves tangled in social media silence and cold greetings. It’s hard to process when people you’ve celebrated every New Years Eve with suddenly go quiet. And as a kid, it’s worse. When your best friend’s parents are no longer talking to yours, you feel that tension even if you don’t understand it.

One day you’re sharing biryani. The next, you’re wondering if you’re the topic of dinner-table gossip.

“Why don’t we see them anymore?” I remember asking. My mom just sighed. “Sometimes, people change. Or maybe, they never really knew how to stay.”

Social media’s partly to blame. One comment ignored, one misinterpreted message… it festers. But what I’ve realized is that real friendships aren’t built in easy moments, they’re tested in the hard ones.

Everyone makes mistakes. We all feel jealousy, we all feel left out. That’s normal, we’re human. But what matters more is how we respond. Do we ghost each other? Or do we sit down and talk it through?

My parents taught me two things.

First: Communicate. If something’s bothering you, don’t bottle it up. Speak. Otherwise, it grows into silence, resentment, and distance.

Second: Listen. Even if you don’t agree. Even if it seems small. You never know how much something matters to someone until you truly listen.

When things got bad between the families, we started having “emergency meetings.” Not the fun kind with food and selfies, but ones that ended at 3:00 AM with tired voices, hard conversations, and, sometimes, tears. But the goal was always the same: Don’t lose each other. That’s what most of our group tried doing. 

But not everyone made it through. Some friendships faded. Some people drifted away. Parties and events grew awkward. There are families we once saw weekly that now walk past us in silence.

But today, we still have our core friends. And that’s enough.

You see, not every friendship is meant to last forever. Some are lessons. Some are warnings. But true friendships, those-worth keeping, are the ones that stay, even when it gets uncomfortable.

My family came to Canada for a new start. What they found was a second family, one that helped them adjust not just to a new country, but to a new way of living. That’s what real community is. Not perfection, not constant joy, but commitment.

So, if you’re reading this, here’s my question: Did a friend recently forget to invite you to something? Did they say something that stung?

If they did, don’t just cut them off. Talk to them. Be honest. See what happens.

Because real friendship? Real friendship survives awkward moments, hard talks, and silent seasons.

As the saying goes: A true friend is someone who knows everything about you… and still loves you.