Do you have cousins who affected your childhood? Who made an impact on who you grew up to be? I have been blessed in my life to have a few cousins who colored my memories with laughter and fun and mischief. I've also watched my children grow up with the same sorts of cousins, and felt grateful for the bonds that have followed them into adulthood.
Our family has lost two cousins in the course of a month, and my mind has been full to overflowing with thoughts of them.
My husband's nephew, only 24 years old, was in a fatal car crash in August. We grieved with his parents, and we grieved with our children, especially our daughters, because for them, he was one of those cousins. They spent much of their first years with him and his big sister, and losing him so early in life was heartbreaking for them, and hard to come to grips with. Our hearts broke for our sister as she made those awful necessary steps to finalize his time here on earth, steps no parent should ever have to take for their child, and we ached for our daughters who had lost a cousin with mischief twinkling in his eyes and the best throwing arm I'd ever seen.
Just two weeks later, I learned that my cousin had passed away. She had been sending me text updates about her mother's (my aunt's) health, and the last update started with, "I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad/sad news, but I've been dealing with some health concerns of my own." She explained the back pain that had turned out to be non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, her treatment, and its spread to her central nervous system and brain, and because it was my amazing cousin, she ended the text with "This has been so hard, but I see the hand of our loving Heavenly Father and our Savior by my side. I feel the love, support, and prayers of so many, so I am feeling blessed." Only she could be so grateful and positive at the sharing of such hard news.
The very last text I ever received from her simply said, "I love you too, my cute cousin."
This was the cousin I looked up to as a child, and through adulthood. She was only a few years older than me. Her family lived in California and we lived in Idaho on a farm. They were our city cousins and we were their country cousins. On our trips to their home we swam in their pool and drove to the beach, or down to San Francisco. When they came to visit us, we drove to our grandmother's cabin in Island Park.
She was just enough older that I was the recipient of her hand-me-downs, which worked out perfectly, because by the time fashion was outdated in California, it was just coming into fashion in Idaho. She made me feel like a trendsetter. Her mom gave us each a set of sealing wax and a wax stamp and we became pen pals. My stamp was a ladybug and hers was a bumble bee. It is the most satisfying thing ever to pop a wax seal open on a letter addressed to you. Email will never come close.
At Grandma's cabin we'd walk to Mack's Inn for Creamies and ride the paddle boats at the edge of the river. We fed the fish at Fishing Bridge and took day trips into Yellowstone. We climbed over the pole fence and went to church in our camping clothes and sat around the fire pit behind the cabin on stools made of tractor seats and made s'mores or Rice Krispy Treats with M&Ms in them.
She treated me like one of the cool kids, even though I was younger. The last time we visited them in California before my mother passed away, we were teenagers. She was dating a boy named Tab, and my uncle thought it was the funniest and kept teasing her by calling him by every other cola name he could think of. One night of our trip we sat in their back yard and dangled our feet in their pool. She got up and ran inside, returning minutes later with a package of Oreos and two glasses of milk. She said, "We have to sit here until we eat every Oreo." I wasn't so sure we could eat a whole package of Oreos, but she assured me that when the milk made them soggy, they would take up less room in our stomachs. So, we sat poolside and dunked Oreos into milk (which she didn't like to drink, but liked to dunk with) and we talked about boys and school and summer and we watched the glistening moonlight outline the repeating ripples from our swaying feet with pale moon yellow. And yes, we ate the whole package of Oreos.
When she started college, I felt very lucky that she'd chosen one only 30 minutes from our home. If was fun to have her come to Sunday dinner and tell me all about how exciting college was. I thought the painted cinderblock walls of her dorm room were so cool. Our grandmother passed away at the end of her fall semester and I remember leaving the hospital with my mom to drive to Rexburg to pick her up so she could say goodbye to Grandma, too.
Cynthia and Steve were married a little less than a year before David and I married, and ever since I watched them laugh together at their Utah reception, I have held them up on a pedestal as a couple to revere. With every story, every social media post, the fact that they were perfect for each other resonated. Every Christmas we received their Christmas card, but it wasn't simply a purchased card. Oh, no. Cynthia reviewed their year in crossword puzzle clues and photos and provided the crossword, too, for some yuletide puzzling fun. She and Steve created life-sized scarecrows every Halloween. Maui from Moana was my favorite.
Cynthia was the first to text me that she'd seen my husband on TV in the choir he performs with, or comment about something I'd written about my mom, or send me photos of the results when they'd made the family recipes for hot fudge sundaes or overnight cinnamon rolls. We traded good spots for family reunions and restaurant tips for trips to Kauai.
I don't understand why good people suffer on their way out of this world. It seems like the people who do their best to make the most of it should get a hall pass at the end. But it isn't so, is it? We end up struggling, dealing with pain and sorrow, and maybe that's the way of it. Maybe it should hurt to leave such a beautiful world behind.
Do you have cousins like these? If you do, you are blessed. And you should tell them just how cool they are while you have the chance.
Cynthia loved sunshine. She loved the beach. Her social media photos were sprinkled with shots of her toes in the sand and the sunshine upon the sea. So, when I finally heard the news that she had passed, I was fittingly sitting on a beach, in the sunshine, and that is always how I will remember her--with sunshine glinting off her honey-blonde sun-kissed hair, and her tanned legs stretched out in the sand.
I love you too, my cute cousin. I love you, too.
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