My cousin Roger died this morning. He was 58, nearly 59, and died of brain cancer, which was discovered less than a month ago. He left a wife and children, including a newborn (born the same week they discovered the cancer). Roger's youngest brother died of pancreatic cancer in 2003 and his older brother has also been fighting cancer this year, though he says his doctors are optimistic. It's been a rough year for his family - he's an uncle to the woman whose husband committed suicide last year.
I don't feel sad for myself, except in sort of an abstract way. I never really knew Roger, don't remember seeing him too many times, and honestly wouldn't have recognized him if I saw him in the street. His family - my dad's whole extended family - are, generally speaking, outgoing and friendly and spend a lot of time with each other, but I don't think he was at a lot of family reunions and get-togethers. He was also 11 years older than I am and I wouldn't have spent time with him when we were at the same reunions. (I had girl cousins my own age that I played with.) When you have 18 first cousins on one side of the family - and the ages of the first and second cousins overlap - there are bound to be a few you don't get to know well. But it diminishes the family - diminishes my generation - and that makes me sad. I don't remember when it first occurred to me that we're that generation - the older generation - the ones sitting at the picnic tables while the younger generation is swimming in the lake, talking about people that younger generation never met and good times they can't remember. It was an odd feeling and something like this make that realization more, well, real.
So my thoughts are with Roger's family tonight, with his mom (the only one of my dad's sisters still living), his surviving 3 brothers and 2 sisters, his wife and kids, nieces and nephews. I didn't know him but they did and they loved him - love him - and I know they'll feel his absence every day for the rest of their lives.
I don't feel sad for myself, except in sort of an abstract way. I never really knew Roger, don't remember seeing him too many times, and honestly wouldn't have recognized him if I saw him in the street. His family - my dad's whole extended family - are, generally speaking, outgoing and friendly and spend a lot of time with each other, but I don't think he was at a lot of family reunions and get-togethers. He was also 11 years older than I am and I wouldn't have spent time with him when we were at the same reunions. (I had girl cousins my own age that I played with.) When you have 18 first cousins on one side of the family - and the ages of the first and second cousins overlap - there are bound to be a few you don't get to know well. But it diminishes the family - diminishes my generation - and that makes me sad. I don't remember when it first occurred to me that we're that generation - the older generation - the ones sitting at the picnic tables while the younger generation is swimming in the lake, talking about people that younger generation never met and good times they can't remember. It was an odd feeling and something like this make that realization more, well, real.
So my thoughts are with Roger's family tonight, with his mom (the only one of my dad's sisters still living), his surviving 3 brothers and 2 sisters, his wife and kids, nieces and nephews. I didn't know him but they did and they loved him - love him - and I know they'll feel his absence every day for the rest of their lives.
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