Last weekend we had the fun of seeing some of our extended family at what my kids fondly refer to as the annual family reunion. It is funny, because I never thought of it that way until they started calling it by that moniker.
To me, it's getting together with my aunts and uncles and cousins, just like we have done my whole life. But for my children, it's an occasion, something special and out of the ordinary, because we live a long ways from Minnesota, where they all live, and we don't get to see everyone very often.
I am incredibly blessed with a wonderful extended family, so it is always a happy time to get together and catch up on what everyone is up to. But these days, it has some bittersweet elements, as well, because it is a reminder that the Greatest Generation is rapidly aging, and won't be around forever.
This year, we were missing several of the aunts and uncles. They are getting too fragile to come out to the cabin that has been the spot for the annual get together for many years, and so they have been left behind. Although they weren't present physically, they were present in our hearts and minds. But it is not the same without them, and they were missed.
The shocking thing I realized, however, is that as they fall away from us, one by one, we are slowly but surely turning into the oldest generation in the family. Our parents, siblings and their spouses for 60 years and more, are the glue that holds us together, and binds us as part of the same family story.
The traditions of the past, which we have come to look forward to, will slowly fade away with our parents, I suspect, and by the time I am a grandmother, we won't be doing these family events any longer. There will be new events, no doubt, but the opportunity to see the extended relatives that I grew up with will be fewer and farther between, and soon, it will be at funerals that we renew our acquaintanceship, instead of the happy times when we can all enjoy the moment.
I was sitting inside the cabin, the area that was always reserved for The Adults, when I came to another correlated, and yet shocking, realization. I am now one of The Adults. This is separate and different from being an adult, with the responsiblities and obligations that entails. Anyone can be an adult, but you have to be something beyond to be one of the The Adults, with inside table privileges.
Within the family circle, being one of The Adults means you are a go to person, one of the people everyone else looks to for everything from towels and boat pulls to lunch and dinner. The children play in the water, no matter how cold it may be, while The Adults discuss the weighty issues of the day and observe that children appear to be incapable of feeling cold, since the water is a chilly 60 degrees and they are in it, anyway.
This year, I realized we actually splintered into three separate factions. The oldest adults were inside, sitting in the most comfortable chairs, stationed where they could see everything but not have to go far.
The youngest members of the family, torn from the water for a few minutes to sustain themselves with some yummy food, sat at the table nearest the door, ready to run back and play the moment they finished eating.
Then there was the middle group, surrounded by both our parents and our children. We all went out back and sat outside at a picnic table out of sight of the crowd. It was interesting how we stratified, a generational layer cake, delicious and fun and complex and comforting.
I am very fortunate, because my extended family is the best kind there is. They are warm and engaging and welcome anyone and everyone to the party. It is fun for my children to bring their friends along with them, because they know that person will be made welcome, and made to feel at home.
Too often, we hear of family dissension and relational discord. I am lucky to be part of a tree with many branches, carefully tended, and with no need to prune.
