Throwback Blogs - No Regrets

Recently, a cousin of mine passed away. There was no phone call, no email, and no family reaching out to share this solemn news with me. I found out about her death through social media, almost six months after she transitioned.

While her passing was a surprise to me as she was relatively young, the fact that I wasn't contacted was no shock, as she and I  were estranged for almost 27 years.

I seldom thought about her through the years, but I was, for some reason, led to Facebook where pictures of her adorned her daughter’s page; the same photos I know are somewhere in my family photo albums, neatly tucked away in storage.

She was a beautiful woman, very much her own person, rebellious, and a force to be reckoned with. We butted horns and rarely saw eye to eye.

We became “estranged” in December of 1992, at my beloved mother’s funeral.

I was devastated by my mother’s sudden death. I was beyond angry; I was inconsolable. Many tried to say and do the right things to ease my pain but to no avail. No priest, no friend could ease my pain, and nor could she.

She adored my mother, and she did try to ease my suffering, but our past and present dynamic made that impossible. I am also a force to be reckoned with!  An ugly, “Hollywoodesque” movie scene transpired, and that was the last time I saw her. Until I stumbled on that Facebook page.

As I sat there staring at the postings, pictures, and remembrances, I felt sadness, true unadulterated grief. But I felt no regrets, no wishing that our relationship was different. No “what ifs,” no “where has the time gone.”

While I truly wished she was still here for her loved ones, I did not feel the need to look back on the past and wish anything away.

People come in and out of our lives, these are just the cold hard facts. There are times when, for whatever reason, we need to part and go our separate ways. We were two very smart, good-hearted, and strong women who were simply toxic for each other. Maybe we were too alike, who knows.

Had I known about her passing when it occurred, I would not have attended her services. It would not have been the right thing to do. As a funeral director, I have lived through far too many uncomfortable occasions where people are in attendance more for themselves than for the deceased and the family. Funerals are for the most part for the living, they do allow us closure, but depending on the situation can tear open wounds that should remain closed.

Grief, no matter what the circumstance must live organically and evolve. It cannot be buried in some personal grave we have unearthed. So how does one grieve for someone who figuratively passed out of their lives many years ago?

For me, it is about remembering the good times, and there were many.

Some I experienced myself, but most are from stories passed down through the years. I remember a picture of me as a baby holding my first plastic pumpkin, she was holding me high in the air, ala The Lion King, smiling the sweetest of smiles.

When my dad brought my mother home to meet his family, some were not happy she was not Italian, but not my cousin, she and her sister soon bonded with my mom and welcomed her as the older sister they could share beauty secrets with and have sleepovers.

When my grandfather passed away, she fed me pancakes, took me to school (a bit late), and helped me with my homework. She told me the angels took my papa to heaven to which I replied, “you mean he died right?” That must have been our first altercation!

She and I were about 18 years apart, we were never kids or teens together. Our time together as adults was racked with family disputes, subsequent reconciliations, and finally with permanent estrangement. Our story together on this planet ended in 1992. Some would say that was a shame, but I say that was how it was meant to be.

We do not live in a perfect world. We argue, we say and do hurtful and foolish things, and sometimes we vow to never forgive.

I am guilty of all of that and so was she.  We ALL are. For me there is nothing to absolve, nothing to change, our story has been written, the book is closed.

But, I do believe there is more to our being than our flawed earthly existence. The expression, “time heals all wounds,” has never rung completely true to me. We move on, we learn, and we evolve. The events that once carried melancholy insurmountable weight become lighter, and in many instances no longer matter. Is that healing? Maybe. For me when I think of her, I remember the plastic pumpkin and the pancakes. Our final altercation no longer carries heft. It has not for quite some time.

I do smile thinking of the family reunion she is now a part of in the afterlife. I just hope they are all getting along!