Farewell, Cuz

My cousin Diane passed away last evening. She was the last surviving child of my father's sister –  Diane's brother having taken his life long ago in his teens, and her sister claimed by cancer just less than two years ago. No parent should be made to know the loss of a child, and, yet, my aunt and uncle have, heart-shatteringly, outlived all theirs.

I couldn't have asked for better kin than I have, and Diane was a shining example of this. In early years, when our family got together for holidays and vacations, she was the instigator of plots, the director of games, the creative – even if sometimes evil – genius who managed to keep us all from bickering. She was a gifted raconteur, teaching me my very first good ghost stories (ask me next time you see me about "buttery fingers and flabby lips"). When we reached our teens, she showed me and a couple of other cousins the virtues of Boone's Farm at the beach, and how to enjoy both without excess.

Well, not too great an excess, anyway. We were, after all, teens staying with an indulgent great aunt and Grandma.

She had been, in effect, the big sister I had wanted – my summer sister – and she was darned good at it.

As an adult, she continued to shine, becoming a woman of faith, a loving wife and mother, a source of inspiration for all around her. She may have presented herself as a dignified southern lady in front of the camera for our last great family reunion, but her boisterous laughter and song could still carry over the fields.

Her death didn't come as a surprise to anyone, as she had been diagnosed with a particularly challenging form of breast cancer. Her family and closest friends had had a chance to gather and celebrate her life this past summer, for her birthday, while she was resting from rounds of chemotherapy (I, frustratingly, am no longer able to travel the distance). We all knew the treatment was a long shot at best, and that the gathering was, for many, a last chance to see her. And, we all knew we'd been blessedly fortunate to have that, because she'd already undergone treatment for this, earlier this century, and had been in remission for more than a decade.

But knowing something is coming is not the same as being prepared for the loss.