Family ties

Our nephew, Collin, graduated from the University of Washington this weekend, providing a lovely excuse for family members to travel from distant lands, and for a gathering of visitors and locals. I took advantage of the visit: I ate dinner with our other nephew, Kyle, and his girlfriend, both in from Boston; recorded a marathon memory session with Sandy's mom and uncle; and enjoyed catching up with everyone else at the graduation party.

Thanksgiving, 2002, with the requisite pinochle game. We usually
went to family gatherings together, but a few times I went alone
if Sandy was ill or out of town. I didn't know I was practicing for
widowhood, but having that history makes it easier now, certainly.

When I told friends what I was up to this week, I invariably referred to spending a lot of time with "Sandy's family" — and of course, they are Sandy's family. But they're also my family. Not my family of origin, but my family of accession. The kids don't introduce me to people as Aunt Sandy's widow; I'm just Aunt Brie.

2002 was the year we all made gingerbread houses. This is the one
Sandy and I assembled - not as tidy as some, but homey.

I don't know what the norm is for widows and their in-laws, but I never had any intention of letting these people slip out of my life. Nor do I intend to lose touch with Sandy's closest friends. In most cases, though, it's not even about Sandy. After all these years, I have my own relationships with her parents, siblings, aunts and uncles — and her closest friends became my friends, too.

There's no revelation here, just a pause for gratitude that Sandy's life was full of wonderful, caring people, and that mine is, too.