reunited

Spending time with my cousins was a big deal when I was growing up. For a while, some of them lived in the same town I did and that was great. When my faraway cousins came to visit, it was a real treat. Traveling to see them was a red-letter day on the calendar.

I had that countdown in my mind last week as we readied for all the cousins to converge on [the city where I live] for our family reunion. We don’t have a regularly recurring family reunion, it just seemed like we were all ready to get together and the planets aligned in terms of schedules and availability. (Check out the photos here.) It was the first time most all of the cousins of my generation were together since my grandma died about five years ago.

Five years is a long time, a lifetime in some cases. People change jobs, leave school, go to school, marry, remarry or move. Little kids grow up, older people pass on. Sometimes, in the worst case, people who aren’t old die. Generations take a step forward, the family tree grows another layer.

So last weekend I sat in the church where I grew up, where my cousins came to visit, and realized my parents and uncles and aunts, they are the front-line generation now. Most of my cousins now have families of their own, lots of young ones who played together and who discovered how fun it is when cousins come to visit, and what a big deal it is.

I enjoyed every part of the family reunion, catching up with all my cousins and rediscovering everyone’s uniqueness. One cousin, like me, believes our grandparents’ house should have been accorded national landmark status. It is now, regrettably, a parking lot. Another cousin is a master of leading young kids in activities. Yet another cousin is a high-flying adventurer. Another cousin juggles young kids, half-marathons, work and still can support all those around her. We had a great time eating and talking and, in an unusual but much beloved tradition, being alone together at Barnes and Noble.

But in my melancholy way, I’d have to say my favorite time was going to church on Sunday morning and thinking about all the people who were not at the family reunion, esp. my grandparents, who were responsible for this whole thing. We filled three rows and I sat in the last of them, looking at the backs of everyone’s heads as they sang. Everyone is so different from one another, it’s hard to believe we all started from the same pair, my gentle, servant-leader grandma and my hard-headed but tender-hearted grandpa. This style of partnership has continued down the years, as my uncles/aunts and parents and even my brother/sister-in-law demonstrate.

Everyone is so similar, it’s easy to understand how we pick up after years apart. We remember our grandparents with reverence and awe, and with dozens of stories that we tell whenever we’re together.

How could anyone take their place? They were spiritual giants, really. In some ways they were very simple and their lives seemed so uncomplicated. In other ways, they seem wiser than anyone, and it’s hard to imagine everything they endured. I can see how my parents and aunts and uncles are stepping up to take their roles, but my cousins and I are just one generation away from the front line, and that is hard to comprehend.

I see the gentleness of my aunts and the stubbornness of my uncles. I see their judgment and their kindness. They seem more human, because I grew up with a more complete picture of their strengths and weaknesses. But I still see them, tall and mighty, on the front line. Of my cousins, who could mature into the leaders of our generation?

Before we parted, one cousin to whom I’d confided said to me, “I woke up in the night praying for you.” And I knew she had. Just as my grandma always prayed, and as she wrote (or typed) in her letters to me, my sister, and all our cousins. My grandma would be so proud. And I have no fears about my generation, when it’s our turn.