Makes me think

Last week, Tim and I loaded up our six (you know, between the two of us) very young children into her suburban and drove to California. It was a spur-of-the-moment road trip, because Funerals are rarely a planned thing.

My cousin passed away. My closest in age relative. I have a huge extended family, and each one of us have "our" cousins; the ones who are the same age as us. Tommy was almost exactly one year younger than me, but he was the closest I had to "same age" so he was "my" cousin. And I loved him! Still do.

When we were little we would make the drive to California a few times a year, to stay with Grandma and play with the california cousins. Sara was the oldest, and I idolized her. She gave me all her hand-me-downs, and was basically the older sister I never had. Sam was next, and every single time I saw him he would tell me that I was beautiful. I will always love him for that. Then Tommy. OH Tommy. If it were possible to hook a human being up to a machine to create energy, he could have kept New York City fully supplied with power. He was like a little tornado of happiness that never stopped blowing! He had the craziest ideas, too.

Once he suggested that we have a picnic on their barn roof. The roof was very steep, and I was very skeptical, but he convinced me that it would work. We somehow managed to get the bathroom stool up to the peak and straddle it there, then we had ourselves a lovely picnic of crackers and water.

Once he wore a diaper strapped onto his head for an entire day.

Shortly after Caleb and I married we road tripped through California, and we stopped at their house. Tommy came in the front door, walked straight over to Caleb and immediately began inspecting his ears. "Yep, they're clean. I like this guy. You better treat my Jayne right!"

I could go on, but what I really want to rant about for a minute is the thoughts I've been thinking since I heard that he passed away.
There seems to be a kind of process that we go through when someone departs, a process that includes remembering everything wonderful about the person who has departed. We forget, to some extent, their failings and struggles, and focus on what made them great. The things that they did that changed us for the better. The things that we loved most about them. I think this is an amazing human gift that we have; this ability to think highly of those who have passed on. But I can't help but wonder...

What if I did that every day with every person I know who is still alive? What if I only remembered their talents, the way they make me feel good, the nice things they said to me, the good times we are having? What if I only focused on their good qualities and kindnesses? What if I thought about each one of my cousins (the rest are all still living), and what I would think if I heard that they had passed away? What about my neighbors? My friends from high school that I haven't seen in 10 years? My siblings?

What about my children? My spouse? Especially my spouse.

I'm not saying we should think about them passing away, or the sadness that also comes along with that, but more of the overall feeling of love that we have for that person once they leave. I wish I could explain it better.

I feel like I can put on new glasses, and see people differently. I wish I could figure out how to keep the glasses on every moment for the rest of my life, but already I've felt myself take them off here and there.

Tommy was not a perfect person. When he became an adult he had trials and vices and demons, and sometimes chose difficult paths to wander. I know this about him. But what I remember is the way he made me feel when we were little. He made me feel happy, like I could do anything, and unconditionally loved. He thought the world of me, and I could feel that when I was around him. When I hear his name the first thing that happens to me is I can't stop smiling, and I wonder what next will come out of his hilarious mouth. I can't wait to see him again.

What if I thought that way about every name that I heard? About every person who crossed my path? Every single one of us has our own set of trials and vices, just like Tommy did, but each one of us have our own set of amazing qualities as well. Which set do we see? In others, and in ourselves?

Please don't take me wrong when I say that funerals are some of the best meetings I ever attend. They have a way of affecting me deeper than other meetings do, and are incredibly good at adding perspective.

See you later, Tommy. I sure like you.