Family

This past Labor Day weekend, my mom's side of the family had a get together at my parent's home over the weekend. It felt important. It was the first time we were all together since my aunt's passing last fall. My mother has lost both of her parents and three of her four siblings, so in some ways it feels like our family is shrinking. In other ways, it feels like love is expanding us.

My mom's side of the family has always been quite close. Other than my grandparents, divorces have been minimal and it wasn't until I was 8 or 9 before I knew which aunt/uncle was actually my mom's sibling. It didn't matter; my aunts and uncles were around for the long haul and whether they were related by blood or marriage did not matter. It felt like an affirmation of that this weekend. I have not yet determined if the warmth and love this weekend had more to do with my inner changes or those of my family. Regardless, my mom's side of the family has always been tender with each other, ready with hugs, love, jokes, and acceptance. We are no novices to sorrow but, that too has its beauty. We are safe with each other, tender to the best of our ability with each other's grief and loss and... healing.

Sunday evening, a few of us that were left at the farm gathered around a campfire in my parents back yard. It was very dark, we could hear the crickets and coyotes and the flames crackling. We reminisced, laughed, told jokes. I stared at the stars, a bit stunned that I had forgotten that there are so many. I focused on the ground beneath my feet and the space between the top of my head and the stars and felt such connection. I thought about a conversation with Ruby I had not long after my aunt Liane had passed. Ruby had asked me what I thought happened to us when we die. Curious, I turned the question back to her. She said she thought we become stars, and every night our loved ones look down on us, look out for us. That theory feels more like truth than any other theory I have heard. I imagined the stars as my family members. It hurt a little to think there were so many stars and so few around the campfire. I considered sharing Ruby's theory with our little commune that night, but I did not want to cast a sad tone.

So, I asked Liane to be there with us and soon I could feel her. I wondered if anyone else could feel her there with us. I could feel my grandparents and uncles and cousin there too, although they stood back. They watched and smiled. I think they knew. Liane is happy. She misses us like we miss her but she's happy. I thanked her for being with me these challenging months and for being with us that evening. I let her be to enjoy her time with us and I could feel her peace.