My mom got a letter in the mail the other day. It had my aunt’s return address on it. She was my dad’s younger sister, my mom’s sister-in-law. My mom opened it, expecting to have a letter from her. Instead, there was a note inside from one of my cousins. She wrote, “Our lovely mother passed away. It was her wish not to have a memorial.” There was no return address for either of my cousins.
We lost my dad five years ago, but my mom kept in touch with my aunt. They didn’t talk often, but they shared memories, history, and people that they loved. My mom last spoke with my aunt in September and wished her a happy birthday.
I am glad my cousins let us know about my aunt’s passing, but I wish they would have left a way for us to contact them. It is hard to see any good coming from the death of a loved one, but renewed communication could be one small light. I lost my aunt. Was there a way to gain my cousins? I have fond memories of them. My youngest cousin is just a few months older than I am. They grew up in Southern California. My family moved to Northern California when I was 3. They visited us there, at least once. I remember a trip to the snow. We saw them every summer, at least until my grandmother passed away. My younger cousin was an expert gymnast and did cartwheels and flips. I could barely do a forward somersault, much less a backwards one. They were very, very cool.
I’m not sure why we didn’t keep in touch better. I think my dad may have alienated their family by sharing the Gospel in a possibly awkward way. He was a devoted Baptist, and I can remember him writing letters that shared his faith and maybe his fear that they might go to hell. Also, I know my aunt and uncle once tricked my parents into attending an Amway presentation. Nonetheless, over the years my dad and his sister worked through their faith and multi-level marketing differences. They talked on the phone, exchanged birthday cards, and were fond of each other. When my dad was dying, my aunt was in touch, nearly every day.
Family can be tricky. I know that sometimes it is healthy and smart to break ties with the people that raised us. I also think, though, that there is something deep there, that blood ties are old ties, and that there is power in connecting with people who knew us when we were small. I would at least like to say hello to my cousins, these strangers who shared my grandma and grandpa, who called my dad uncle. Maybe mistakes were made, but there is always the hope of forgiveness. Maybe everyone just got busy, wrapped up in jobs and friends and children. Years have been lost, but there is still time. I could track down an address, do some searching on Facebook, write a note back to my cousins at my aunt’s old address. Maybe all it would take is a simple hello.
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