My mom called me while I was at work last Wednesday to tell me that my cousin L. had died. I went through the rest of the day, saving the processing of this for later and the comfort of home. Cousin L. was on my dad's side of the family. I had not really known her since she lived on the east coast and I (formerly) on the west. However, my mom and brother had gotten to know her during the past two family reunions, both of which I have missed being out of the country. So my brother flew across the country to Ohio for the funeral.
That evening I grieved -- for the lost opportunity to know one of my kin (also one of the few people that had known my father, who died when I was young), for not being able to be there for my brother and for the simple fact of being so far away from my family during this event. There is perhaps no greater reminder of the great distance that separates me from the rest of my family than the death of one of our own -- and with that distance, a reminder to be more conscious of staying in regular contact with family and friends.
Hello, Dear Friend.
1 year ago