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Family Reunion, Summer of 2016

I am entering the dining room at June’s invitation, along with my four sisters and brother, expecting to have lunch as part of the family reunion.

“We’ll seat all of the siblings first,”, she says, and we follow along, like we always did, after all, she is the eldest sister. What I don’t notice at first, but what dawns on me moments later, is that there are only seven plates set out, at an event that should host 22.

“This is just for us, the others are eating on the patio.” she tells us, ladling out the borscht, a soup our mother served us in our farm kitchen, some 55 years ago.

“Well, we’re all here,” I say, attempting a little humor, “All seven of us, nobody’s missing.” I stop short of saying the word “yet”, and suddenly everyone sees the significance of this occasion. As we dip our spoons into the borscht, and reach for the peasant bread she has served, June lays out her plan.

“We are all getting older, and now that I’ve reached the age of eighty, and the rest of us are in our sixties and seventies” she begins,”I thought this would be a good time to catch up on what’s going on with us, and I thought since a few of us have had health issues, we could start with that.”

June sets the tone by telling us what she has been coping with, her sore knees, the hip she has just injured in a gym class, telling us all the details, laughing at herself, holding nothing back. I go next with an update about my changing eyesight due to a rare condition inherited from our mother, and shared by Linda, who chimes in with her optimistic view of it,

“I’m grateful for the eyesight I have,” she says, “Our mother had her vision until she died at 94, so I’m not going to worry about it!”

One by one, we share our health stories—there are no new revelations—we all know about the various operations, and conditions we have faced through the years, but it feels good to talk about it with our siblings, whose genes we share, and whose history we all know.

The prevailing theme of our lives is resilience

We become serious as we realize how fortunate we are in this family, and how, although some of us have faced debilitating and dangerous illnesses, the prevailing theme in our lives has been one of resilience and faith in our genetic makeup.

“And now,” June says, as we come to the end of this theme, “I thought we might like to talk about something that we are grateful for, something that makes us happiest right now. And maybe later, we can tell about what’s left on our bucket list.”

Lynne, the youngest, still thirsty for adventure, talks about her travels to exotic places. Linda tells about the joys of having a new grand daughter, and Kay relates how she is moving to be closer to that same child, our grand-niece. Allan tells us about caring for his ill wife, and how his love has sustained him, April affirms that she is hoping to improve her mobility, affected now by her medication. June expresses the importance of her family, and I reveal how happy I am to be writing again.

I watch and listen as each of us reaches back over the years, drawing on our recollections. I hear the word “remember” again and again. Each of our stories is all of our stories, and the threads that stretched out through the years, as we moved into the world, allowing Allan his international career, giving Kay her chance to practise Law and Linda her years in nursing, giving April the determination to complete her degree, prompting Lynne to pursue executive positions, and allowing June and I to spend years teaching, all of these threads were unfurled as we grew older and lived our individual lives.

Maybe it’s a trick of the sunlight, but something is happening here

Maybe it’s a trick of the prairie sunlight streaming through the windows, or the taste of the simple fare we are sharing, but something else is happening here. I rub my eyes as the faces change before me—I suddenly see us as we were, gathered around the farm table, Kay laughing in her highchair, and Lynne in our mother’s lap, Allan charming us with his impish grin, April eagerly participating, Linda smiling at her older sisters, June, helping everyone with a competence beyond her years, our father sitting at the head of the table, and me coolly measuring my chores so I could escape and read my book.

I see how we have changed yet stayed the same, our personalities evolving from those early times, our lives unwinding from the core of the family life established by our caring and powerful mother.

I see the gradual re-winding of the threads as we speak and enjoy our meal. Each one of us unconsciously draws closer. We know that in a matter of hours, we will all disperse again, separated by thousands of miles and hundreds of concerns.

But here, in this moment, we are around a table again, really seeing each other, sharing secrets we are no longer reluctant to air. Telling it the way it is now, in the time we have left—beaming love around the table, and wishing each other the very best.

We rise from the table, thanking June for bringing us together—knowing that each one of us will remember this experience in different ways. What stirs me most, and I am sure this is shared by the others, is a deep appreciation of the early bonds that nourished us in the past, and will carry us forward into the future that remains.

30 thoughts on “Family Reunion, Summer of 2016”

  1. What a lovely description of the rooted connectedness that families can provide! I particularly enjoy your shared insights into, what I value as truly important, health and loved ones, which are what we encounter as we enter the world, and it seems to be what is important to us as we prepare to leave it.

    1. Still the Lucky Few

      Thanks, Maggie, for your enlightened comment! Although we do not see each other a whole lot, I think I got it across that we are truly connected.

  2. Thank you, Diane. I will treasure this piece of writing since you captured the event so well. Now my table is set for only 2 but I’m already looking forward to entertaining you all here again.

    1. Still the Lucky Few

      Thanks, Ruby! It blows my mind to think you are considering doing it all again! It was all fantastic, and I know it is hopeless to tell you to take it easier. Hope you two are having a rest—so well deserved! Thank you for creating so many memories for us across the years!

  3. Thank you for sharing your lovely bond with your siblings. By coincidence, I hosted a family BBQ today, my one remaining brother and his family and the daughter and former wife of my late brother. I envy how many memories you share. My brother is 11 younger than me so we do not share memories in the same way. He is looking up so to speak, and I am looking down!

    1. Still the Lucky Few

      We do share the memories, but you are right, not in the same way. There are 16 years between my oldest and youngest sisters. They have lived lives that reflect their different eras, so their memories are very different as well. But one thing holds true—their values are very similar, and mirror the teachings of my mother.

  4. What a lovely memory for you and your siblings! Your sister had a plan and she carried it out so well that everyone had a good time and precious moments from the past were shared. Your reminiscence makes me nostalgic for the warm, close family that I never had but always wished for. Thank you for sharing it. It gives people like me a glimpse of a positive family life that we can still aspire to.

    1. Still the Lucky Few

      My sister’s plan was typical of her. She’s so clever and creative! I grew up in the last era of large families, I think. So much has been lost as a result of this population shift. But it had to happen—we couldn’t go on procreating at that rate!

  5. Indeed, time does not wait for anyone. The clock keeps on ticking. I loved your story because it is mine too. I woke up one morning and I couldn’t believe what I saw in the mirror; An ol’guy flirting with 66. “Whatever happened to my hair” I thought.. Liver spots were creeping up and my sight wasn’t what it used to be. Then I thought:”I may have lost in some areas but gained in others”.. I had become somewhat smarter, more relaxed and less worried about everything. Life was still good and entertaining seniors in retirement homes seemed to be my new purpose – and I loved it. As George Burns used to say: “Age is a matter of the mind; If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter”..

    1. Still the Lucky Few

      Thanks for this, Peter. I’m so glad you have found a new calling. It’s a good thing that we evolve, isn’t it? We couldn’t possibly keep up the frenetic pace of our younger years!

  6. What a wonderful reflection Diane. It truly was a magical moment having all my sisters and brother together talking and sharing. Much love around that table – to cherish and hold.

    1. Still the Lucky Few

      Hey Sandy, thanks for the feedback. I must admit, I was a bit nervous about writing about it, but it was a precious experience that I just couldn’t let pass!

  7. I haven’t got a group of siblings now – as the very youngest with 25 years between me and the eldest – we are the only two left!

    And if we have the chance to be together, she is constantly niggling at my lifestyle…we were at her DIL mothers’ funeral just last week.

    From the minute our lovely (but basically unknown chauffeur picked up) she was commenting on my hair style. Our chauffeur had nice short hair as well…then it was onto picking on me over things that really are not important – my ex-DH (I left him in the early 90s); where I live; how I live

    the chauffeur certainly got more than she bargained for…so embarrassing to have my sister reveal so much to a complete stranger. I have met the chauffeur once when DIL was having coffee with her at the Mall…

    1. Still the Lucky Few

      Sometimes things just spill out when siblings meet. You have no control over it. It sounds like she is an unhappy person and needs to take it out on someone! Maybe you should clear the air with her.

  8. Delightful thought-provoking account of your family reunion. I think it’s fortunate siblings could all gather and talk in this manner, especially since not all large families share such togetherness. My only sibling died a few years ago and I do miss my big brother, a decade older than I. I recall when he was the age I am now a phone conversation from across the ocean we were having. He related a medical issue he was having, then suddenly stopped — he said “Have we come to this — talking about our medical problems?” I think we both realized then, if we had doubted before, we were getting old.

    1. Still the Lucky Few

      You are so right about that, Joared! We go most of our lives not even thinking about our health, and suddenly it’s an all-consuming subject! I’m sorry you lost your brother. Having such closeness was a real privilege!

  9. this is a particularly beautiful post to me!
    as one who has only one beloved brother it’s always heartening to see what a large family is like through the years.
    i always enjoy your family stories diane.

  10. Diane, being one of seven siblings, I related to every word of this wonderful post. I especially enjoyed the metaphor of threads unspooling while binding you together and your description of sitting at the table and seeing each other as you were. Your writing brought tears to my eyes as I thought about my beloved siblings. Thank you.

    1. Still the Lucky Few

      I’m so glad you understood the effect I was trying to achieve. It’s so gratifying! Thank you so much..

  11. Absolutely beautiful. With your exceptional writing ability, you’ve conveyed the pain and the joy of living fully and gratefully in spite of the knowledge that we are mortal. And what a love letter to your family. Thanks for taking the time to write it.

    1. Still the Lucky Few

      Yes, time makes us all a little less shy about revealing ourselves…as in, “If not now, then when?” Thanks, Yea!

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