Preserving the Past

Growing up, my extended family was a large one but I lived far from most of my relatives. 

Moreover, half my grandparents died before I was born and most of my aunts and uncles were emotionally distant people.

The result was that, even though I was blessed with two loving and attentive parents, I often felt lonely and adrift.

For this reason, I resolved that, should I ever be a parent, my children would be raised in the bosom of their extended family. In this way, I thought that they could never feel as alone as I had. 

I married a very family-oriented woman, who was herself part of a large, loving family, ensuring that, when our children came along, they would be surrounded by relatives.

The years blessed my wife and me with two children—a daughter, now 28, and a son, soon to be 25. And, unlike their Dad, they have grown up very close to their grandparents and have warm, intimate relationships with their seven aunts and uncles, with great aunts and uncles, and with their many cousins. I don’t think that either of my children could imagine a life outside the warm embrace of this large nest.

But just wishing for a loving extended family didn’t make it happen. 

My wife and I live hours from our nearest relations. When our children were young, we’d pack them into the car for the 200-mile trip to grandma’s house and to see their cousins; and to do this often enough to have a real impact on their lives.

So often, in fact, that such trips became a routine part of our lives. No holiday was complete without a trip to see grandma and grandpa, several aunts and uncles and as many cousins as possible. And, between holidays, there were other trips and an annual reunion; sometimes others made trips to visit us.

Sadly, as we’ve grown older, our family gatherings have begun to bear witness to time’s passage. Grandparents have died, some aunts and uncles, too, even a few cousins. 

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