I grew up in a big family.
Well, I suppose calling it a big family is not quite accurate. It's a huge family. I have seven siblings, scads of aunts and uncles, and an army of cousins. Today I met another cousin. It was at my uncle's funeral. Uncle Warren. I said goodbye to a favorite uncle and hello to a cousin I'm not sure I've met before.
My dad introduced me to this cousin today. He is actually my dad's first cousin, my second, and is a bit younger than me. That happens in huge families. People who, by relation, you would think would be closer to your parents' ages turn out to be younger than you.
My dad introduced me and I put my hand out. Just a handshake. But the cousin pulled me in for a hug. It's okay to hug strangers when you're related to them, I reminded myself. After we chatted a bit, I went to sit inside the sanctuary and waited for my uncle's funeral to begin.
As I watched my cousins, Warren's children, get up one at a time and eulogize their father, I was struck by how many things I'd forgotten that I loved about this man. I hadn't considered his character for years. Yet, there I sat in a strange place being flooded with familiar thoughts. It seemed strange, as I though about my Uncle Warren, that he was not really there. Just his body. I tried not to think about it and focused on the man I remembered.
His permanent smile. His laugh. His appetite as huge as my family. His love of life and the way he loved to dance.
I remembered as a child being intimidated by some of my uncles. But not Uncle Warren. Not him. The way he danced the Polka at family weddings was a delight for a little girl. It was fun. It felt safe. I felt happy, dancing with this favorite uncle. He was a friend. A friend to me. A friend to everyone.
My cousin, Lisa, talked about her dad's friendly disposition. It didn't matter how old you were, or how young, he was a friend.
Lisa said that my uncle used to say, "The difference between a friend and a stranger is just a handshake."
Just a handshake.
Such a simple gesture. A simple, connecting, bridging, friendly gesture. That was him. My Uncle Warren. I wish I had the chance to extend my hand to him just one more time. Just a handshake. I know if I did, he'd grin and pull me in for one of his Uncle Warren hugs.
