You get a phone call from the east. Our cousin BJ died last weekend. Not sure of the cause. Maybe it was a heart attack or result of a long term illness. The memories begin to surface.
We did sleepovers when we were young. BJ’s father was Mom’s older brother and they were close. BJ and sister S have a stepmother and step-siblings (is that a word?). I remember sharing BJ and S’s room for the sleepovers and their stepmother complaining that I talked too much. Now I know, it was not just me, she criticized everyone.
BJ was cute and smiled a lot. That is the picture I have in my head; dark curly hair with a big smile. All around, she was nice lovable person.
I remember the monthly trips to Grandma and Grandpa’s house where all aunts, uncles, and cousins spent the day cooking, eating, playing, sharing stories and gathering around Grandma as she played the banjo.
We grew up. I married and moved away, far away. We lost touch. I heard she married.
I visited my home State and reconnected at a family union. I returned to my new home and forgot all about the old life.
Relative to me, BJ is young and died young. I guess I knew she had children, but rarely thought about BJ all these years. I look around in my Face Book friend’s friend’s list and see one of BJ’s children. Looks a lot like her mom; cute.
We have 29 cousins stemming from my mother’s siblings. BJ is the first I know of who is not with us. We have 10 stemming from my father’s siblings.
