A Celebration of Life

Sunday, October 23, 2022

We went to Madison for the weekend so we could attend the celebration of life for my Uncle Don, who passed away in July at the age of 93. He was my dad’s next younger sibling. As we drove down Friday night, Keith asked me where Don fell in the line of seven siblings. I said, “Margaret was oldest, then Daddy, then Don, or not. Um. Fred is the youngest. Lois is next youngest. Then Marilyn and Carol and Don are in the middle. In some order. Don, Marilyn, Carol. Marilyn, Don, Carol. I have no idea. You know, when you think about it, why would I know? Is that a thing? Do our kids know our family birth orders? Of course they do. I guess I should. My siblings will know in a heartbeat. We will ask.” Indeed, when I asked the names were rattled off as quickly and obviously as red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet.

My cousins had curated a great collection of pictures to look at, including some scrolling on a TV. As I watch the pictures pass by, I saw one of my dad and his two brothers, Don and Fred (and my cousin Sam). I said, “Look! It’s Daddy.” Keith and my sister, Donna, turned, but the picture had gone. We started talking and shifting around to talk with others. After a little bit, I said, “There it is again.” Pfft. It changed. Several hours later, I saw the two of them standing purposefully in front of the TV, fixed on the screen. I knew they were waiting, that they hadn’t yet seen that picture. Then there it was! They both broke out in smiles, success! I know I could ask my cousin to send me a decent copy of the picture, but we snapped a picture of the screen. I like it so much.

I thought a lot about the fact when someone dies, everything they know about everyone they’ve known is gone. One fewer person who knew my dad. One fewer person to remember my grandparents. A lot of people are interested in genealogy, but I am more interested in just hearing what people were like – what they did, who they loved, what made them happy. My brothers are older than I am, and they know lots about relatives I can barely remember. I like that they know. I like when they tell me. But it doesn’t come up often. At the reception Saturday, my brother said someone could read from the POTD blog at my funeral to remember me. That was an interesting thought – that this is a record of me – what I did, what I liked, who I loved. I hadn’t thought of that. I like it.

On my dad’s side of the family, there are four cousins born within five months (Is that right? Is Randy November?). I’m second of that pile. We were never close, because we did not live near each other. Back in the olden days, you didn’t call people (LONG DISTANCE!) and you visited yearly, or less. I grew up thinking that people just had cousins that they didn’t see very often that were the same age as they were. There was talk of having a cousin reunion and it was getting organized before the pandemic, and then of course it went away. I think it would be good to do. We can remember together while we are still around to remember.

The picture of the day today is from yesterday. I was way, way too tired to think last night and even find the picture, much less write about things. We gathered the White cousins that were there – which was a good chunk of them – and got a picture. I have tried to keep people anonymous in the blog, because I don’t always have their permission to use their names and I think I should. Not today. Here are my cousins and brothers and sisters: (faces left to right) Sam, David, Chrissy, Dennis, Randy, Nancy, Me, Donna, Julie. Robb was there, but somehow not in the picture.