In the last two weeks I've lost two women very dear to me -- my Aunt June and Granny Dot. June was my dad's last living sibling and Dot was like a surrogate grandmother.
At my aunt's funeral I overheard my dad say two things that not only made me ponder a lot about life (and which prompted me to write this), they also made me appreciate him and see him in a new light. To one person who had offered condolences and shared some very special memories of my aunt to him he said, "You know, there is one good thing about out living the rest of your family. You get to hear really great things like this about them that help you know them in an entirely different way." The second thing was to a woman who was a cousin by marriage. He said, "Thank you for loving and taking care of my family." I wept each time because it offered some insights into things my stoic dad keeps to himself and revealed some really important life lessons.
The first is that the family we are given is, in fact, a gift. (Granted, it's sometimes a gift you'd like to return.) Regardless of how you get along with them, it is the foundation for who you are. You rarely get to be as raw and exposed with anyone else the way you are with family. The rest of the world sees the "you" you want them to see. We wouldn't dare display to colleagues, acquaintances, service people, neighbors, or friends the harsh honesty and the TMI stuff we do with our kin. For better or for worse, they are with us from beginning to end.
But, your friends are a part of who you become. They shape your interests and your insights. They expose you to the world outside your insular family existence. In many cases, even though they may see only the "you" you want them to know, it's the best of you that is brought out through that. If you get to have one or two really good friends who know who you are and who you want to be and love you because of all of it, you are one of the fortunate few. Often, because families do grow apart and our lives take us in different directions, it's the friends who are there for us in later life when our family can't be there.
With each of these women I saw both realities but from different angles. With my aunt, I had that strong family bond, that inexplicable connection that is a part of sharing blood, while observing others who felt just as great a loss because they were her chosen family. With Granny Dot, I felt as though I'd lost my grandmother, even though we weren't related because she was like a mother to my dad for all these years he spent without his. She loved my family as though we were hers because she chose us.
At the end of all of this, the one thing I take away is that whether someone is dear to you because of genetic ties or life experiences, count yourself so very lucky to have had them at all.
Between the two of them, these things were said: She loved with her whole heart. When you were loved by her you had no doubt of it and were better for it. She left a legacy of people who were inspired by her, whose lives were changed by her touch, who considered themselves blessed to have known her. She lived fully, richly, and honestly. She was fiesty and called it as she saw it. She was courageous and honorable. She knew how to enjoy life.
If, at the end, I am regarded in a shadow of the light they were, I will know I lived a good life. If I have had an impact on half the lives they did, I will know I have done well. If I experience even a fraction of the love they did, I will die complete.
