Remembering

This was taken at Griffith Park, Los Angeles. My cousin is on the left and I'm on the right. I am thirteen here - reached my full height 5'9" when I was 12. My four-month older cousin was eventually 6'.My cousin, Aunt Amy's son, was the closest thing to a big brother I had. Lee was a math whiz from the get-go. When we were in first grade I remember my grandpa asking me if I knew how old he was. When I said no, he said he’d give me a clue and told me the year he was born. That didn’t help me at all but when he asked my cousin the same thing, he figured it out.

He joined the air force and was sent to Viet Nam. While stationed in Pennsylvania, he met his future wife and though the marriage produced two children it didn’t last. He later met a divorced woman and fell in love. Her ex-husband decided if he couldn’t have her no one else could either and shot my cousin, leaving him paralyzed and brain damaged. He lived for some time in a convalescent home before dying. It still sounds surreal to recall this. The funeral for him was horrid. The pastor was new to my aunt’s church and got my cousin’s middle name wrong. There is no grief worse than that of losing a child no matter the age. My sister lost her only boy and said the pain really began in the second year – the first year she was just numb.

Aunt Amy stayed in touch with Lee's ex-wife who eventually moved back to Pennsylvania, got a job and planned on moving back to California when she could retire. When that time came, my aunt wanted her to move in with her – she looked forward to the company and the ex would need a place to stay. That didn’t happen because the ex developed cancer and within a couple of months was dead. Lee's son lives in Pennsylvania, his daughter in California. They both keep in touch with their grandma, my aunt. Remembering is a mixed bag - joy, comfort and pain.