Thanatopsis....

'Thanatopsis' is a famous literary work by someone whose name I'm not remembering right this very moment. I remember studying it in eleventh grade American literature.

The definition of it is a meditation of death...not in terms of doing something to precipitate your own death, but thinking of death from a philosophical point of view.

I found out today that my cousin George took his own life sometime late last night. Tonight as I think about it, there is grief inside me....and, as usually is the case with me, it's not so much grief for the dead as it is for those left behind.....George's brothers and sister. My Dad, who helped care for the five boys before Joy was born. I've known my Dad long enough to know the remarks he makes when he's truly hurting, and when I spoke with him today, there was a sadness in his voice that said, "Those kids never had a chance."

From what I remember of him--and admittedly, it's not much--he was very quiet. Jeffrey and Joy were the two I was closest to....Joy I went to school with, spent the night with several times; a couple of them at our great-aunt Opal's house. She lived in a house out in the sticks and it had an incredibly high porch with a front porch swing. Joy and I used to swing that thing so high Mamaw would yell at us--she was always afraid one of the kids was going to go right over that porch. Because she lived in the sticks--Aunt Opal used to leave the back door--the one in the kitchen--open, just the screen door between the kitchen and the outdoors. Joy and I woke up one morning to find that a racoon had chewed its way through the screen and was sitting on the kitchen table, and screaming like little girls (we were--I think I was 12 and Joy was 13) and Mamaw threatening to switch us over something so silly. The racoon had fled in probably sheer terror at us screaming. Joy and I were talking at Mamaw at once--we had gotten in behind her and was pushing her toward the kitchen. It makes me smile.

They are my Uncle Gene's kids--my Dad's oldest brother. My Uncle Gene died at only 46. Tonight I am thinking about the time--when I spent the night with her at my Aunt Eva's--Joy told me about the day my uncle died. She was eight years old...I haven't seen Joy in (God, is it possible?) eighteen years. George I hadn't seen in almost 20. The last time I saw George was the last time I saw all of Uncle Gene's kids together: Mitch, Jimmy, George, Robert, Jeffrey and Joy.

Jeffrey died the same day as my mother.

I've lost aunts and uncles.....it's something you expect. But when it's the grandkids--my cousins--it feels a little closer to home. I think George was about ten years older than me--which would have made him one year younger than Uncle Gene when he died. My Mamaw had 27 grandkids...we're now down to 23. I'm thinking of Mamaw tonight, too....George is with her now. But I'm thinking about both grandmothers. My Mamaw--my Dad's mother--outlived two children, her husband, and three of her grandchildren; Mark, Jeffrey, and little Vicky, who was stillborn. My Mom's mother outlived two husbands and five children. Both of them had long lives; lives well lived: Mamaw was 82. Grandma Ayers was 94.

I don't wonder what Joy is feeling tonight--I know what she feels. But once upon a time, I knew Joy very well, and I know that she is taking this really hard. And I'm so sorry for her.

While I don't remember much of George, I only wish there was something--anything--someone could have said to him. I understand the emotions behind what he did. I wish someone could have/would have told him that it gets better. I hate to think of anyone dying alone. Our family reunion is coming up in July....I was hoping to see the surviving cousins of my Uncle Gene. It's been too long.

As saddening as death is.....once again, there is the comfort of family. While of course nobody looks forward to the death of a loved one, the gathering of family is sustaining. It eases the ache; and although most of us won't be able to make it for George's farewell (he lived in Maine)--today I spoke with alot of the family; the memories poured out, even a few funny stories (thanks, Aunt Ann) and the 'I love yous', which I love about my Dad's family. They are healing.

So many grandkids did Mamaw have--I even have cousins with the same names. There are many namesakes in my family....some of them, I think the aunts and uncles must have forgotten: "Ooops, we already HAD one of those." I say that in the purest love and a little amusement.

I am thinking of the whole family tonight. We are one less. The family reunions when I was a kid--and there were alot of them--some of my cousins are second sisters and brothers to me.

I've run down all of our names many times in my mind today...and I'll say each and every one of them here:

George (Dave). Vicky. Russell (Mitch). James (Jimmy). George. Robert. Jeffrey. Joy. Rhonda. Michael. Lisa. Jeffrey (Jeff). Darwin. Melissa (Missy). Scott. Mark. David. Eugenia (Suzanne.) Mary (Libby). Vicky. Cheri. Misty. Patrick (Rick.) Caryn. Robert (Robbie). Ginger. Amanda.

Of all of us, Baby Vicky (who died when I was a year old), one of our Jeffreys, Mark, and now George have left us. This is my remembrance to them.

And my love to those of us still here.