Remembering my cousin

My first cousin died this morning. He suffered from a brain tumor for years, and the quality of his life has really been minimal for the last six years, with the last six months being especially bad.  I am glad that he no longer is hovering between life and death.  It was time for him to die because he was not going to be cured.

I feel so much relief that his ordeal is over. I have been anticipating this call for months.  When I talked with his wife, she seemed to be at peace and handling his death calmly.  But I know that her life has just shifted in a monumental way.  Care taking for him all these years and now not having that purpose must be an abrupt change, compounded by her grief and the loss of a man she loved so much.

Although there isn't going to be a memorial service right away, my cousin's wife asked that we remember him in our own way.  So this afternoon,  I went to the garden and thought about the good times that we spent as kids.  We would often hide in the rows of pole beans, chasing each other across the planted field that separated our houses. And that would cause us to get in a lot of trouble with my father who treasured his tomatoes, beans and strawberries.  We often got into trouble of some sort, but we were just being kids. All of that seems like it happened a million years ago at the moment.

So I remembered him, dug potatoes, and picked beans.  Digging through the dark, rich earth passed the time.  And tomorrow, we are having a picnic for some recovery friends. We are going to make potato salad from the ones dug today.  And there will be tossed salad, burgers, brats, baked beans, red rice, and berry pies with ice cream.  The storm has passed by, the winds have ceased, and my cousin has completed his life. It all seems to be peaceful and as it is supposed to be.

An old photo of my cousin as part of the May Day court so many years ago.  I have one of him holding me when I was about a month old.