A Family Weekend

This weekend, my father's brother and sister, both octogenarians themselves, came to visit him. Aunt Pat also brought her two daughters, Penny and Cindy. My brother, Mike, also came, and so did Tisho, Wendy's eldest, with Madison, Barbara's daughter.

So great to see everyone, especially feeling and looking so well! Penny and Cindy lost their father in 1989; he also had Parkinson's, with dementia, so they know exactly what it's like. Cindy is also a breast cancer survivor; I remember Barbara stepping up and providing all kinds of moral support at the time. Aunt Pat once had breast cancer, too. She looks wonderful today! Very pretty at the age of 86. Three years ago, she re-married, this time to her college sweetheart. Uncle Dick says he feels great; he walks unaided and is going to be 90 next March. He looks enough like Dad that seeing him was a little like seeing my Dad healthy and whole again.

Madison has had some sort of adolescent blossoming and has turned beautiful, even more so than she was just three weeks ago when I last saw her; I couldn't keep my eyes off her.

We looked through old family photos I (as family archivist) had brought, and at things our common ancestors had written, some of which I intend to share here, and had a grand time reminiscing, and an even better time getting reacquainted.

Mom and Madison and Cindy got a kick out of holding wee Angelina Bombolina, who turns out to be not a Deer Mouse, as I had first thought/hoped, but an ordinary House Mouse. Still adorable. She was a bigger hit than the three infant squirrels, who, still hairless and blind, aren't yet as cute.

Growing older has made us realize the value of staying in better touch! What we've missed by not knowing our cousins better over the years!

Here's Dad's birthday photo, taken by a friend who goes around to the nursing care unit and takes birthday pictures of the residents there. I don't know exactly when it was taken, but fairly recently. Must've been in a quite lucid moment, that he was able to cooperate by smiling. There IS still somebody home, behind those eyes.