Family who have gone before us continue to affect our lives

By Linda Petersen
Posted 11/25/16

Two recent events piqued my interest about the concept of mortality. The first was the sermon given in church on All Saints Day. After lighting a candle for my saint of a mother, the flickering of …

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Family who have gone before us continue to affect our lives

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Two recent events piqued my interest about the concept of mortality. The first was the sermon given in church on All Saints Day. After lighting a candle for my saint of a mother, the flickering of the orange/yellow flame mesmerized me and I was soon deep in thought. Pastor had commented that our loved ones may be gone, but their lives are carried on through us.

My concept of death had been much more concrete…she was here, now she’s gone to heaven, happily looking down on us. It hadn’t dawned on me that she was still here, living within myself. Her beliefs and total acceptance of everyone, (including the mantra “God don’t make junk”,) had such an impact on shaping my own beliefs that we chose to foster and adopt children with special needs. Her life as a peacemaker instilled similar traits in myself and I go out of my way to smooth situations over, not to argue. Her custard pie recipe continues to help my own children feel comfort and love. Fortunately, her complete Depression-era obsession with not spending money unless necessary turned me in the other direction, (spurred on by my embarrassment when she kneeled at the altar for my wedding and her shoes had $2.99 written in black magic marker on the bottom of them, one of her bargains from the Salvation Army!)

My thoughts expanded to my other family members who passed away; my brother Steve who taught me delight in simple things, (his eyes would light up and a smile would come over his face when given a glass of Diet Coke, much the same reaction I have today!) and my father, whose wandering spirit squashed my own desire to ever ride in a car again, but whose intellect has served me well. Even my self-centered grandmother taught me the valuable lesson of humility at the age of 10 when, still in her “right” mind, gave me a pair of her own XXL granny panties for a Christmas present, while coming to the Christmas dinner decked out in a new mink coat and fancy earrings. Until watching that candle flame on All Saints Day, the effects of others on my own beliefs had never crossed my mind, but it was true; they DO still live on in me.

The other thing that happened was a cousin recently passed away. He was a jovial gentleman who had a visual impairment, (in fact, the same hereditary impairment as my own brother and son.) He led a full and eventful life working for the state of RI. An Irish Catholic, he was proud of his heritage, and kept everyone interested telling stories of hilarious political affairs. He had a loving family I had not seen in about fifteen years. Sneaking late into the funeral mass, I inconspicuously chose a back pew.

In the front row were my cousins, much like I remembered them! Blonde hair, blue eyes, and dark hair, dark eyes, young and slim. It took me a few minutes before I realized that they couldn’t possibly be my cousins, for I had aged and they should have also. The look a-likes in the front row were the children of my cousins, looking so much like their parents that I was taken aback. Having children who are adopted, the concept of familial resemblance had not been important to me, but here I was looking at a whole new generation of cousins, carrying on the family physical traits.

Both incidents made me think about mortality and how family members who have gone before us continue to affect our lives. We may look like them, we may think like them, and we may model our own lives after theirs. How very rich our lives are because of them.

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