A couple of months ago, I decided to go out to lunch with one of my many cousins (Pam) from my father's side. For context, we hadn't seen each other in several decades. Her mother and my father (both deceased) were siblings. My relationship with my father, his siblings, and their offspring suffered when my parents divorced when I was a kid. There was, over the years, some effort to reunite the families, but mostly, they were all out of my life.
Enter a death (Sqr), another cousin. His sister (Dot) was in town for the memorial service. Pam invited Dot and me out for an afternoon of reminiscing some days after the service (which I had missed). I hesitated but eventually agreed. On the day of, I discovered that Dot had begged off, so it was just Pam and me.
For context, we hadn't seen each other in several decades. And while we are close in age, we have people and experiences in common, the second half of our childhoods and a large chunk of our adulthoods were spent in separate worlds. Her memories and my memories did not align.
She shared stories of her parents, our grandparents, and the epic family divide, most of which I had never heard or experienced. It became clear that what she sought was someone to bear witness to the trauma and toxicity that permeated our separate but equally fraught-filled child and young adult lives.
At the end of the afternoon, I told her I'd keep a good thought for her upcoming surgery (she'd shared a devastating medical diagnosis--I was the first cousin to know) and said our goodbyes, hugging it out.
We haven't spoken since. Enter social media. Pam and I are still friends in that realm.
Happy Autumn!
