A family tragedy

At the end of August tragedy struck the family on my father's side. My dad, 'Papa' to the kids, is in his mid 60s now. One of his younger brothers, not as yet 60 and local here in Minnesota, had a sudden cardiac event. I don't understand the functions of the heart well enough to describe, or perhaps even to understand, what happened exactly, but I heard that calling it a heart attack was not entirely accurate. Regardless, his heart failed and the efforts at bringing him back were ultimately unsuccessful. His body was in rough shape and that certainly contributed, that's all I'm going to say on the matter. After about two days on life support he passed away. He is survived by a wife, two kids, both his parents (nearly 90) and three siblings.

The timing is what's getting me. Thus far in my life I've lost almost no family members. It's only been my maternal grandparents, my grandfather when I was like two years old and my grandmother much more recently. She, of course, was very old and had a long decline and nothing about her passing was surprising. This was jarring, sudden. The only fortunate aspect of it all was the presence of my dad. In a twist of fate, my grandmother and my other uncle, who both live here, were out of state when my uncle's heart stopped. My parents had been in town for a week, in part to go to the Minnesota State Fair and see a couple of my siblings who'd come in for a weekend. We were literally packing up the car to go to the airport, back to Arizona, when my dad got the text. I gained respect for them when the first thing they did was sit down and pray. Then my dad went to be with my uncle's wife and family, at the hospital for those two days and beyond. I can't imagine my aunt going through that alone. I took my mom to the airport, and it was the most quiet ride I've ever made.

Everything happened right before Labor Day weekend and the time was used to make funeral arrangements. My dad, at least from my point of view, took the lead, helping out his now widowed sister-in-law as much as he possibly could. Again, nothing but love and respect for him in my following along.

That week included a trio of events. On Tuesday night the family had a small, open casket viewing at a funeral home. My grandparents, my dad and his surviving brother and sister, their spouses (my mom was back), and a couple of my cousins in addition to my uncle's family were there. We said goodbyes, the casket would be closed for good afterward, and it got pretty emotional. I don't think I've seen a body in a casket before and it was strange and foreign. But it was definitely him. When we were leaving my grandma called me stoic and I believe it was a compliment. Wednesday afternoon was the big funeral service, held at the church where I grew up as that ended up making sense logistically. There were probably a couple hundred people there, including more cousins and my two brothers. My uncle's three siblings and a couple of his friends spoke, we celebrated his life, family and faith, and we sung Sweet Caroline at the end, per the deceased's request. Full disclosure I can't stand that song, but maybe going forward I'll view it in another light. Then there was food and fellowship. On Thursday morning we buried him at a little rural cemetery under a tree. That smaller group, family and a few friends, migrated to my uncle's house where we spent a chunk of the afternoon. It would've been challenging to be the last ones there, leaving the family to themselves on departure.

Not mine, but a good stock pic

I went to everything, as much to try and be there for my uncle's family as to be there for my dad. We brought all three kids to the funeral and, while the younger two couldn't make it through the service, they did pretty well. I even, without my wife, brought the younger two to the burial. Though somber it was short, they got to see something I think is important, and, again, we could simply be there. Eventually I needed to stop them from playing a little too much, jumping over gravestones, but I don't think anyone was offended. In fact, I think their attendance brought a little cheer. Both of my uncle's kids spent some time with them at their house, including hunting for the hiding family cats, and they seemed to have a good time together.

By the way, these are two of my three youngest cousins. That's the hardest piece of all. The elder, a young woman, is a senior in college. The younger, a just turned 18 year old young man, is a senior in high school. They no longer have a dad. It boggles the mind to have a cousin 20+ years younger than me, one much closer in age to my oldest son, but my uncle started late and I'm the oldest cousin overall and he's the youngest. It happens. A result of this age difference is that I barely know them. When I got married they were something like nine and six. I missed most of their upbringing living out in Maryland and not attending a lot of family events and holidays. There's nothing I can do to change that, at this point. But there's plenty I can do in the future.

Death does truly make you look at life differently and want to try and do better. My new aims in that respect are relational. I really want to get to know my youngest cousin, the young man. I have to think everything that happened was more traumatic for him than anyone else, as he desperately tried to keep his dad alive, his 18th birthday was right in the middle of it, and now he's facing down his senior year and so many other life changes. I keep hearing, from extended family through the grapevine, that he's mad, taking it hard, no shocker there. My heart breaks for him. I want to help, spend time with him, maybe show him there's still joy to be found, I dunno. I'll pray that I find the words and that he lets me in, even if just a little. I also need to go see my grandparents more. We haven't done that frequently enough since moving back and now their child that lived closest is gone. They still live in the house where my dad grew up and it's a lot. Time to make a plan to see them regularly, actually. Time to get to work.