Sad anniversary

Three years ago today a cousin of mine died. The gap in ages between us meant that we were not close growing up, but I got to know her a little in the last few years of her life. She was a wonderful person.

I got to know her by taking my mother to visit her. She- my cousin- lived in Ottawa and was confined to hospitals and care facilities for the last years of her life. My mother was both her aunt and godmother, and, to the amusement of my cousin's husband, my ninety year old mother decided that her seventy year old god daughter needed a visit from her godmother to cheer her up. After listening to my mother for some time subtly drop hints that she wished someone would take her, I volunteered.

The visit was wonderful, far better than we had any right to expect. Even though we dropped in practically unannounced (we tried to get in touch but couldn't- long story-and so we just went anyway) they welcomed us joyfully and (on her part) with tears in her eyes. For the most part my wife and I stayed to one side and spoke with the husband- forging what has proven to be a lasting friendship in the process- while my mother and cousin chewed the fat as only they could. At about eight o'clock that night her husband asked if we were ready to retire for the evening. I replied that it was really up to those two, as the purpose of the trip was to bring the two of them together.

"That's all well and good," replied the husband. "But with all due respect to your mother and my lovely bride, they could keep talking all night."

"Hmmm," I said. "Your point is not without merit."

I took mother back a second time, and we had another wonderful visit. When it was time to part, my cousin was tearing up, and looked as though she might cry. I tried to cheer things up in my usual ham handed way. "Don't worry," I told her. "If the two of you can stay above dirt, we'll do this again." My cousin had an expression that was simultaneously a laugh and "what a horrible thing to say!" I took the laugh to be foremost.

Unfortunately, my attempt at humour bit me on the backside. I was about to bring the two together again, but my mother had some treatment that made her odd just a week before we were to go back, and then she had her fall two days before the scheduled trip. A week and a bit later, we buried her.

Her goddaughter outlived her by a few months. I and my family did go and see her again. She was well that night, but it wasn't long after that trip that she had a stroke. And before long we returned to Ottawa to say our final farewell.

Though I did not get to know her all that well, what I did know was nothing but good, and I do miss her. In life, we are in the midst of death.