Of Graduations

When I was growing up we had a dear family friend by the name of Fr. Joseph Fulton. He was a dominican priest, and we were blessed to be able to share even a part of his life, so awesome was (is) his spirit. I remember him saying that he was not frightened of death; that to him the end of this life was not a death at all, but a Graduation. Forever after his words will comfort me when I am faced with the end of a life here on earth, as I'm sure they will come to me on my own death bed.

My uncle George Graduated today. He leaves behind his wife Carrie, and two young daughters, Sarah (15) and Hannah (11). He had terminal colon cancer which was diagnosed last November. I can't say that I was close with him, and his death did not come as a surprise, but still I feel as if my system has been jolted. Knowing that he is no longer in pain, and that he is with other family members that have passed comforts me. My heart aches for my aunt and cousins though. And for my dad. Uncle George was 7 years his junior - the baby of the family.

The last two Saturdays have been busy with visits to my uncle and his family. This last Saturday I took my dad down to the hospital. Uncle George's room was full with family. We packed in, offering support and love, which was all there was left to do. Uncle George lay unconscious, a continuous morphine drip at least offering him some measure of relief as the cancer slowly engulfed him.

The Saturday before that I went down to Olympia to celebrate my cousin Sarah's Quinceanera. It had been many years since I had seen or even talked to my dad's youngest brother, and I admit I originally balked at the idea of spending the best day of the weekend (that Jed had off no less!) at a party for which I barely knew the attendees and was likely to just stand around feeling awkward. I know - Selfish. So very, very selfish. Ultimately, I went to support my dad, and I am so glad I did.

It was a strange juxtaposition, celebrating Sarah's coming of age in the face of her father's untimely deterioration... but both girls seemed to take the day in stride. Hannah stayed close to her mom, and Sarah found time to be with her dad even in the midst of her party. I admire them and my aunt Carrie for the strength and love they showed that day.

It was difficult to see my uncle so emaciated, and even more difficult to see my dad beside him. They didn't say much. Mostly Uncle George slipped in and out of consciousness and Dad looked at him; his face full of tenderness, his eyes windows upon his soul. At one point, my uncle reached out and patted my dad's leg. My dad held his hand then. I won't pretend that I know what each man was thinking or feeling just then, but it was good to see them connect, if only briefly.

Being there brought back strong memories of my grandma Phoebe in her last days, and redoubled my feeling that I had done the right thing in going. When my grandma passed away I did not yet drive, so I was dependant upon my sisters to take me to the funeral. When they decided not to go because my mom was going to be there I was so angry. At the time I didn't understand why I had so much anger over not attending the funeral, but now I understand it was because I didn't have closure. I didn't get to say goodbye to her; her existence just sifted away from mine like grains of sand through my fingers - the harder I clenched to hold tight to her, the faster my memories of her seemed to disappear.... It was the same with my Grandpa Nino when I was a child. One year on Christmas he was gone, and that was it. Us girls did not go to the funeral. Of course I understand it was for financial reasons now. My dad went, and we moved on with our lives. I don't remember a chance in either situation when we were able to share memories, tell stories, or mourn together. I don't believe I even knew how to mourn back then. It was as if someone had set me adrift in a boat with no oar. I knew what was going on, but I had no way to navigate, no way to find the far shore.

Now as an adult and having lived through a few more passings, Fr. Fulton's included, I feel as if I want to celebrate my uncle's life by remembering him.... Unfortunately, the most poignant memory I can dig up at this moment is of his sole cooking attempt at Nina's house so many summers ago. My sisters and I were there for the summer, and Uncle George had gone fishing (at least that was my understanding). He made this fish loaf, yes like meatloaf but with fish, and served each of us a hearty portion. My sisters could not, or would not, choke it down and proceeded to shovel theirs onto my plate. I, not having the discerning palate I have today, dutifully ate as much of it as I could. I remember thinking that it was better than some kids got to eat, and wouldn't Dad be proud of me for not wasting, and for being grateful?

I remember Nina smearing mud on Uncle George's back (now I know it was for his colitis), and them both sitting back at night to watch horror movies. (Horror movies which scarred me for life, by the way. Ask Jed - I made him return the last horror movie he brought home. You think I'm joking, but I'm not. Even having them in the house gives me the heebie jeebies.)

I remember dancing at George and Carrie's wedding with my cousin Luis, and was gratified at the Quinceanera to see that same cousin dancing with Sarah in nearly the same manner, as my Uncle looked on.

I remember taking pictures of George and Carrie, Sarah and Hannah at Manny's birthday party in the community center down at Liz's place in Yelm. Carrie asked me for pictures, but sadly, not alot of them turned out, and I never sent them.

It is sad for me to know that a person in my family has moved on, and I never really got a chance to be a part of his life. I think of my own nieces and nephews and I have renewed determination to remain active in their lives. To show them how much I care, and not leave it to a few passing words, and a clench of the hand when my time comes.

I am struck with the clarity with which it comes to me that all that matters at the end of this life is the connections we have made, and the love that we have shared. It is a lesson I'm sure I will learn again and again as I get caught up in the goings-on of life. For now, I just hold my kids a little tighter, and snuggle in a little closer with the Hubs. I am guilty of getting caught up in the dream for exploring distant lands and faraway places, but when it comes down to it, my life's adventure is right here. I don't have to go anywhere to experience it. I just have to live it, and love it.