indebted

“I don’t know who my grandfather was;
I am much more concerned to know what his grandson will be.”

Abraham Lincoln

“Let us be grateful to the people who make us happy;
they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.”

Marcel Proust


(the cousins circa 1966 )

Family.
A difficult and delightful hodge podge and conundrum all rolled into one.
For good or bad…we all have family….

Do you see the wee awkward one there, the little one in green sitting in the
middle on the couch in this grainy old family photograph?

That would be me.

Little did I realize then that the two cousins, brother and sister, sitting to my immediate right and left would eventually come to be two of the most important people
in my life.

The age difference is 5 and 8 years respectively.
Enough of a deep and wide chasm to keep the young cousin at, what was hoped to
be, a safe distance.
Being just that, I was the little cousin who was to be endured during holidays,
for what was hoped to be only for a day at best.

The only catch was the fact that the two girls were also just that—
the only two girls in a sea of boys with a doting grandmother who had raised
two boys yet always yearned for a girl.
Of which forced these two mismatched girls to spend more time together than either
one particularly cared.

So should it come as any surprise that the older of the two girls tried twice to do
away with the younger one?

How was the fact missed that when these two cousins were once visiting their
grandparent’s farm, deciding to go out for a ride on the horses,
the older one opted not to secure the younger one’s saddle, leaving her dangling precariously between a deep raven or a bed of overgrown brambles…
with the only choice of survival being the brambles….

Or what of the time the older one was told to prepare the younger one something
for supper…and so, what was dubbed a cannibal burger, was quickly served…
simply being a raw hamburger patty that perhaps was hoped served as a last meal….

The teenage boy you ask??
Well he simply had no time for any such foolishness, opting instead to spend
time his own way…away.

And little did any of us know that on that picture day so long ago that
two in the photo would leave us far too soon.

I lived in the family of the younger of the two brothers.

A quiet lazy man who called Atlanta home.
Ours was a small family of four.
The other and older brother lived with his young brood up north in a rural
city in the same state.

The distance often limited the times spent together as “family.”

The oldest cousin in the photo was soon to move states, off to college,
where he would eventually go on to medical school,
marrying and forging his life there, away,
as it is to this very day… so his presence now is of little consequence.

Add also to the photo the fact that two in the picture had been adopted…

And so it was with my having been one of the two adoptees.

Such was that I always had felt a deep void in my heart.
I always felt a disconnect from my cousins…
as if I really wasn’t related and therefore I was always an outsider,
not really related.

We all shared the same last name,
but at some point prior, I actually had had a different last name.
Different family traits, different everything.

Of course today my grown mind knows better and that such a thought never crossed
the minds of my cousins. Simply put, I was just the little cousin…
Yet in my mind I always felt separate from what made the family just that,
a blood bonded family.

As time passed all the cousins went their own separate directions…to school,
careers, marrying and forging lives of their own.
All except for the two youngest boys.

The youngest cousin there on the floor was only 3 years older than me.
We were very close growing up, as our ages dictated that we were the two
relegated to spend the most time together.

We were the best of friends, growing very close over the years as we each dealt
with our own varying family dysfunctions, that was until he was tragically killed
in a car wreck at the age of 23 while at age 20, I was left to pick up our pieces.

My little brother, the youngest of all the cousins would eventually commit suicide
as he could never reconcile himself to having been “given up” and then in
turn adopted…despite the fact that he was always loved and cherished within
this family.

There would always be the occasional wedding or funeral that would bring everyone
back together….
but time, age and distance had placed a divide in the family,
creating a group of strangers rather than bonded relatives.

My family of 4 eventually became a family of 3, then it was down to 2 and
this past March, it became only a family of 1.

Their family of 6 eventually became 5, resting now at an original 4.

But as theirs was the greater in number, it only made sense that their family’s
numbers would grow exponentially…
blossoming to the current total of 31 while mine is up to 4 with a
5th on the way.

But oddly and blessedly enough, time would be kind as it always has a way
of coming around full circle.
It has allowed for the bridging of the chasm of both age and distance…
in turn rendering all of the divides no longer relevant….delightfully
null and void.

Each cousin has lived through, as well as survived, their own life’s tumults…
And the realization and acknowledgement of such has provided a bonding effect.

Those two cousins who sat on either side of me all those many years ago,
along now with their spouses, swooped in to take my small brood of
a family under their care when it was most needed.
And when things became really difficult, they merely intensified their care.
And that care continues as I continue putting the pieces of loss back together again.

No longer was I just the little annoying cousin but I had become more
like the younger sister…
a sister who they each knew would need their love and support.

Family, as we most all know, is a complicated affair.
Never perfect, never what we hold in our minds.
However we are blessed when we realize that our adversities can actually provide
a unifying factor.

Despite having known these people my entire life, I don’t think
we actually got to truly know one another until we became adults.
And since neither of them read this blog I don’t think they’d mind
me telling you how very lucky I consider myself having been “stuck” in the
middle on that couch so very long ago…

Family, for good or bad, we usually all have one….
and how so appreciative I am that this adopted child was blessed by one
with such a tenacious zeal.


(both of my cousins with their mother, my aunt, my now 92 year old aunt,
almost 3.5 years ago in Savannah at my son’s wedding / Julie Cook / 2014)

Anyone who does not provide for their relatives, and especially for their
own household, has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever.

1 Timothy 5:8

29 comments on “indebted

  1. Melissa Presser, Lover of Jesus says:

    Just gorgeous Julie

  2. atimetoshare.me says:

    I recognized you right away. What a sweet picture. We can’t choose our relatives, that’s for sure. I know from experience that cousins can play a great part in your life. Treasure those you still have.

  3. Sarah says:

    Wow. Families can be the pits and the heights, that’s for sure. I was pretty mean to my brother and step-brother growing up, and I don’t think our relationships have ever recovered like yours. We had a pretty messed up childhood. Plenty of baggage was carried around for years, but time is a great healer, isn’t it?

    • We did too Sarah– lots of baggage but not so much between us but rather within our collective families.
      My smaller clan suffered grievously silently and alone while I know they had their own share– it took growing up and some revelation to figured the importance of gathering the remaining troops. 🤗

  4. Sarah says:

    I’m glad you got to that point. Maybe one day my motley crew will pull together too. 🙂

  5. oneta hayes says:

    Glad to meet your family, Julie. Short hair and bangs as a child as now. Have you always kept that style. Cute girl; pretty lady.

    • Oh you are too kind Oneta—my hair has been my achilles heel most of my life.
      As I got older it developed into a wavy hot mess. As a young girl I yearned to have hair like Cher—long and straight.
      I tried my hand at such but had to use curlers, which evolved into a ruling iron, as I hate that Marlo Thomas That Girl flip, then I got sick of all of that and cut it off… short…too short as I now look back.
      So now, it’s still short but a hair dryer and a flat iron are my friend, but a ball cap is a better friend 🙂

      • oneta hayes says:

        It looks like it is nice and thick with lots of body. That’s good! Nix on the ball cap. Every time I see one I think “I guess she didn’t have time to do her hair.” 😀 Well that’s what my granddaughter does and says so don’t blame me for thinking that!

      • and it is on my cleaning day’s that I don the ol cap—my hair is thinning, as in falling out, due to a bum thyroid..and has crazy no nonsense waves here and there…
        For being short, I spent forever on it—“fixing it” every day when I was working…and people think short hair is easy..Ha!

  6. Wally Fry says:

    Cousins are very special. My mom and dad were such jacked up fools that the cousins families were the only normal thing sometimes. Of course that time my aunt went to a lawyer and tried to get custody of me didn’t do much for familial relations lol.

  7. Family is always so precious. I can’t wait until you are a grandma! I know you’ll love it and be great at it. Get me updated on that. 🙂 ❤

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