Sometimes the road before you takes you back instead of forward.
Last Saturday, Papa and I awakened early in our empty nest. We crawled out of bed at o-dark thirty (as my once-an-Army-man husband says) to shower, get dressed, and grab a quick breakfast.
Actually it was 5 am and we planned to leave our house around 6:30 because we had a three+ hour long trip to take to attend a morning gathering in a town over 175 miles away from ours.
One of the last surviving aunts on my husband’s mother’s side of the family passed away last week at the age of 87. We decided to attend her memorial service, not only to pay our respects for her and her family, but also because we knew it would be a family reunion of sorts.
We would have the opportunity to visit with my husband’s cousins who we haven’t seen in 20 years. Some of them live close by the town so far from ours, but some of them reside even farther away in other states, even on the West Coast. Papa’s older brother, a Texan now for over 30 years, was flying in for the service as well and we looked forward to seeing him.
We traveled by highway eastward as the sun arose and once we crossed the mountains, crystal blue skies and sunshine greeted us making our drive very pleasant.
Once we arrived at our destination, the air still nipped at us with a bite of chilliness but the greetings from family warmed us with smiles and hugs.
Reconnecting with cousins and my husband’s brother truly was a joy. We shared updates about grown children and cell phone photos of grandchildren.
We listened to stories of days gone by and memories of childhoods when that side of my husband’s family would all gather together at their “cottage” at a church campground and spend summer vacations together on the Jersey shore.
Quite some time ago, I tackled the plethora of old photos that had belonged to my in-laws. I managed my way through them all, deciding which ones we wanted to keep and placed them into photo albums.
But there were so many old photos of aunts and uncles and older cousins as youngsters that we decided should be given to those family members who were still alive. Since Papa knew the family histories better than I did, he sorted those by families, bundled them up, and inserted them into large envelopes.
They traveled with us on our journey and as we all gathered at a lovely restaurant for lunch, Papa passed the envelopes out. Smiles spread on all those faces as they viewed those photos from yesteryear and passed them around for others to see. Gracious thanks rained over us like blessings.
As the time ended and we all dispersed, Papa and I hugged everyone goodbye with promises of coming back in late summer for a family reunion. His brother had some time to kill before heading back to the airport, so we stayed and visited with him before we gave more hugs goodbye.
But before we left to travel back home, we meandered around this quaint town where so many of my husband’s relatives had lived. We drove past their former homes and Papa recalled many fond childhood memories.
We wandered down country roads and found the church campground where so much family history took place and marveled that the “cottage” the family once owned still stood.
The roads that led us to this wonderful time of family took us back – back to the days when families weren’t so spread apart by distance, back to a simpler time, back to childhood memories, and reminisces of those who are no longer among us.
Our day was a bit bittersweet. As we headed back westward to our home, I thought about the fact that we are now becoming the older generation of this family.
And how it saddens me to know that our children – all young adults and some reaching middle age now – will not have this experience of reconnecting with this side of the family. Yes, they are second or third cousins or however you classify the offspring of first cousins, but they don’t really know one another because distance separates us all.
Family stories and histories will probably become lost in time. Unless some of us try to preserve them. That’s what this day of traveling back showed me.
Sometimes we need to let the road before us take us back.
“So much of who we are is where we have been.” ~ William Langewiesche
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Mama's Empty Nest 
Know how you feel about our children not having the same memories as we have. Both sets of my grandparents lived on farms and it was always great fun traveling to visit. We usually went to visit about once every six weeks and with both sets of grandparents living only minutes apart, I was able to see them often. All aunts and uncles are gone now, but several cousins survive. We try to get together once a year, but the gathering is smaller each year. Sweet memories.
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I remember when my maternal grandparents were still alive. There was a lot of Sunday visiting going on with extended families. That doesn’t exist anymore but you’re right, it gives us sweet memories.
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Bitter sweet is the best description. I’ve been to two services like that this year. Peace.
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When we reach a certain age, the more memorial services we attend. It’s life.
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Not sure if you are aware of this, but my Mom passed away a little over a year and a half ago now. Don and I are now without living parents. Such an odd thought, like you said, to be the older generation now. Wish there was more family time than there is, nothing has changed with Tyler. But Don and I are changing to accept what God has allowed and are trying to live more my faith in this journey. Looking forward to my forever family in Heaven.
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I didn’t know your Mom is in Heaven. I’m sorry to hear that and also that your family situation has not changed. I’m keeping you in my prayers.
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What a wonderful day you had. I envy you. I have no extended family to connect with, even in these later years (my father was an only child and we had little contact with anyone other than his own mother during our lives; my mother remained estranged from her only brother [married, no children] her entire life and her own cousins were not part of our “family circle” growing up). My own children know their cousins mostly via Facebook, as they are spread across Canada and the western United States (and “staying in touch” doesn’t seem to mean the same to them as it did to our generation). I am working on putting together family histories for both my mother’s and father’s side of the family, but where that information ends up after I am gone is uncertain. “Family” certainly doesn’t have the same meaning now as it did in previous generations. That, to me, is very sad.
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I concur. It makes me incredibly sad as well. My side of the family is pretty non-existent too as my mother was an only child and my father was the last of his family to survive. I only have one living cousin left and I’m thankful to have two sisters and their families (although most of them live far away). That’s why this day with my husband’s extended family was so lovely for me.
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What a sweet and precious gift that day was.
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It truly was and we are so very glad we went. 🙂
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