(about this week: there is a peril, it seems, to writing ahead these days. we had decided that this week – the first full week of a new year – we wished to use images of light as our prompts, we wished to linger on the possibility of light, of hope, of goodness. though our blogposts might stray from that as we pen them, it was without constant nod to the constant updating of current events – a mass of indefensible, unconscionable acts. we pondered what to do about these blogposts we had written and decided to keep them. we hope that – whether or not any absence of the happenings of the day, whether or not the chance these written words seem somewhat inane at this moment – you might know that those events – of corruption, illegality, immorality – do not distill or distort our intention – to bring light and hope to this new year – the first days of which bring more insanity and unnerving instability. we are still holding space for light.)
and so…
it is almost a week prior to this day that i am writing this.
i just found out that my cousin tony died. my dad’s sister’s son, we had only reconnected in the last few years and had not – yet – re-met each other. this makes me inordinately sad today. in a busy world that sorted its way through the pandemic and then hence, a visit together had not yet happened. time did not wait.
i didn’t know he was ailing, and maybe he wasn’t. maybe it was sudden. either way, it came as a shock to me and i could feel it contract my heart, squeezing it and eliciting regrets.
i hope – now – that we will someday meet cousin tony’s family…his children, his grandchildren. i hope to hear some more stories. i hold onto his older postings, politically in alignment with my own thoughts and beliefs, grateful for his assertiveness and candor. i hold tenderly onto those moments we had on the phone together – two cousins who missed out on sharing life together.
my dad’s sister – my aunt helen – had four children. with the exception of cousin maria, they were all older than me by years. that rift thing that fractures families sometimes – that I’ve written about before – took most of the years. the remaining years and months and days that have passed have taken three of my cousins. my cousin linda remains. in a tiny family, it seems important to travel east and spend actual moments together.
this has been a season. there has been much loss for many people around us. every single time we think we have time – in the future – with someone, i feel as if we learn that might not be so…we are reminded that there is no lock on – no tenacious hold – we have on life itself. we can try our best but these moments keep ticking and we are just lucky enough to be in them.
the sky was brilliant out the front door. i called d to come and see it.
the phone’s camera doesn’t really capture it. the colors were so much more vivid. the dusk so much more palpable. the intake of breath so much more visceral. falling into the pause – a moment of the infinite.
and we got to see it.
that’s the thing. it’s all there to see – always. connection, beauty, love.
it boils down to standing on the front porch, gazing at the sky.
what more is there, really?
*****
in honor and memory of my cousin tony.
read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY
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