A Time to Pause...

Day 189, Year 11 in Glasshalfull

I’ve pressed PAUSE on Glasshalfull the last few weeks. It’s hard to write with heavy heart and mine has weighed a ton since June 6. That’s the day my dear cousin called to tell me she had cancer and didn’t have long. I won’t go into details because she wouldn’t want me to. But I’m missing her like a sister.

Gayle and Dale, we were. Lovers of laughter, family, books, and the pursuit of ornery happiness. She called me “D” and I was always glad to see her “Hey Cuz” text messages pop up on my phone. Especially on days thick with memories like the anniversary of my mother’s death. Gayle always reached out then, knowing it was a hard one because she’d been there with me from the beginning and knew my mother like I did as a little girl.

The next to last conversation I had with Gayle was when I sent her the link to the early May newsletter in which I commemorated my Aunt Mary, (her mother)’s passing. I felt bad that day because I hadn’t remembered when she mentioned it had been the anniversary of her dad’s death (my Uncle Bud) just two days before, too. But she said she hadn’t expected me to and only mentioned it as a piece of family history. I’m so glad she did. She loved our family, babies; forgetful old folks; and all.

Gayle holding my niece, Holly, I think.

The day Gayle died, thinking about them all laughing together again comforted me. Because laughter and the joy of being a family are what I remember most about my mom’s side. But one Saturday evening in Wichita, that laughter nearly got us kicked out of a Holiday Inn.

After a day’s family reunion festivities, Gayle and I, our husbands, and Aunt Mary had congregated in our room for a final glass of wine (or possibly two.) Gayle had the best laugh, halfway between a hoot and a howl, with a volume that rose from her toes. Consequently, in the midst of a long stream of particularly enjoyable stories we heard a timid knock at the door.

“Excuse me, but you’re going to have to quiet down,” the young manager announced. “Our other guests are complaining.” As we looked at each other with our collection of wrinkled faces we agreed, then snorted as softly as we could. That ended our senior-citizen jocularity since none of us wanted to pack up and hobble to a different motel. But it sure made for another good anecdote to add to our archive.

The Motel Five -the Senior Citizen Gang which Almost Disgraced the Family

I remembered those good times and so many more as I sat last week in the beautiful sanctuary my practical and prepared cousin had chosen for her funeral. Times such as those when in-awe me sat next to older-cousin her in the pew of their church in Kansas City, trying to follow her example of how to be a good Catholic. I’ll never forget her amused grin at my Protestant attempts at crossing myself. Or how she introduced me to Nancy Drew mysteries and told me I was brave the many times my father was a grouch.

At her funeral service, as with the others I’ve attended over the years, the leader read Ecclesiastes 3:1-9, the Bible passage that begins: “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:…” It tells about there being times to be born and die, to weep and laugh, to mourn and dance. I’m sure the Almighty won’t mind if I add another: a time to whoop it up with Gayle and a time to miss her. So much.

Thanks, Gayle, for always being there for me. Give the others my love. Until we meet again in a suite at, say, the Heavenly Inn on the corner of Cirrus and Divine? I’m sure there we can make as much joyful noise as we want. And the manager and the other guests will likely join in.

Love you Cuz,

d