The mister and I had to take a last-minute trip on Sunday to his home-town in Oregon to attend the funeral of his paternal grandmother, who passed away last week. She was 90 years old, of sound mind and, right up until the end...of sound body. She was survived by 4 children, 10 grandchildren, countless great-grandchildren, and a multitude of others.
I, Shanti-towners, have not been to many funerals in my life.
In fact, if you don't count the memorials at my high-school gymnasium that were held for the one or two kids who died during the course of my time there--I haven't actually been to any.
I also (and I think this is partly why I've not been to many funerals) have a rather small family. It's growing now, with the marriages and children of my brother and sister and myself (no children yet for me, don't get all excited), but when I was growing up, there weren't very many of us.
Paul's family, in comparison, is large and lovely and full of aunts and uncles and cousins and kids and grandparents--it was only his father's side gathered for the funeral, but the night before the service there must have been 30 of us all gathered together to eat and drink and prepare. I felt, I have to say, like some buried childhood dream was coming true for me: to feel in some small way a part of this big--brood! We had a whole room of the restaurant reserved just for us! The other end of the table felt like it was a mile away, and all evening long people just kept...arriving. During dinner, the kids of all the cousins (the great-grandkids) played trains and darted in-between the chairs of the adults. At one point, one of the smaller girls sidled up to my chair and asked me, in her adorable squeaky voice, "are you my dad's sister?"
To which I had to reply, "no, sweetheart...I'm your dad's cousin's fiance."
Heh.
As for the adults, we ate steak and drank wine--cousins who hadn't seen each other in a while caught up, aunts and uncles congratulated Paul and I on our engagement, and everyone shared stories. They shared stories of Paul's grandfather, who had died several years earlier and who was, without question, the head and center of that side of the family. He was a baseball player and a salesman and a master storyteller himself, and though his passing had been difficult for all of them those four years ago, it seemed even more final now, with the passing of his wife. They told stories of her, of how much more complicated their relationships were to her than to him, of how much less they felt they knew her, deeply, than him, but yet still how much they loved her. They told stories of family holidays past, of the swimming pool at the grandparents house that all the grandkids were magnetized to during their teenage-hood, and they marveled at what it would mean now for all of them that these two--the hub of the family--were both departed.
And at first, I have to admit, as I listened to them all telling stories and reminiscing...I felt a little envious. I want this, I thought. I want the big family gatherings and the kids underfoot and the summertime boredom stories to share with the cousins. I want to have so many people in my family that the little ones don't even know how everyone is related. I want to sit around in the living room the day after someone important has been buried and reminisce about who wrecked the car when we were kids and who got blamed for wrecking said car.
But as the ceremonies progressed, as the meals and the funeral and the reception all came and went, I suddenly realized...wait a minute, I DO have this. This family is now...my family.
(insert sound of rapturous choir singing here)
And as I thought more about it I realized, my god, not only is my small little family of origin beginning to grow and blossom, with nephews and step-siblings and step-nephews and nieces, but now, wonder of wonders, all of these people, this enviable large family--I'm now a part of it. Our children, my and Paul's children, on both sides they will get this extravagance of relatives. They will have this feeling of being rooted somewhere, of being known. They will (unless all the other kids are grown up by then!) get to chase their cousins around the dinner table and gripe about grandma and grandpa in their later years..
And it seems fitting, as my wedding quickly approaches, to take a moment to acknowledge the size of this particular gift. Just to get to marry Paul is enough of a boon to last me (my god, I still marvel at just THAT), but to also get to join my life in some way with this big brimming restaurant-room full of Willis'...it's a pretty sweet deal, folks.
And I am so very, very grateful for it.
