Tuesday, February 06, 2007

About Don

My cousin Don died last week. Today is his funeral and I can't be there, so I guess this is kind of my eulogy.

Don was only 63. Died suddenly and unexpectedly of a heart attack. Of course, that's just like Don. Most everything he did was unexpected. My brother said it best; "If you look up character in the dictionary you'll find a picture of Don."

From the time he was a kid he made everyone laugh. He was a clown of the best kind. A good hearted guy with an infectious laugh and a goofy outlook. My family lived across the road from his family on his father's farm when I was a kid, our two mothers were sisters. Don and his sister were just part of our family, always coming over, or us going over there. My brother and I, and Don and Sue all played together, ice skated together and spent Christmas mornings together. The ice skating I remember well. I was a lot younger than the rest, and I had double runner skates, while the rest struggled with single blades. Don, tall and gangly, was a vision in flailing arms and legs, every limb windmilling in the air as he tried to remain upright. (My mother used to pee her pants just thinking about it years and years later.) I would stand there, not really skating, but not falling either, and one by one the bigger kids would come skittering by and grab onto me for balance. I felt important.

Mom had a habit of making pizza on Saturday nights and we'd eat it watching Jackie Gleason. There was always some left over, and Don could be counted on to poke his head through our front door the next morning and ask for a piece. Yes, Sunday morning pizza is a big part of my recollection of Don.

He was just so good natured. No matter what kind of story he was telling, good or dire, there would be a crooked grin, raised eyebrows and a chesty chuckle at the end of it, along with some unique Don observation of it all. He taught us that life could be laughed at. Case in point: when he grew up, he took over his father's farm, becoming a farmer himself. One year he lost a finger in some farm equipment. This happens to farmers sometimes. So he used the situation to make jokes. My favorite was when he used to hold the stump tight against his nostril so it looked like he had his entire finger up his nose. That was a good one.

After we all grew up, I moved away for several years and only saw him once every year or two, but our childhood ties always bound us together in some way. We'd still laugh about an incident when I was maybe twelve, (and way too big for this sort of shenanigans) when he had offered to take me for ride up the road...on his back. Why? Who knows, it was Don living in the moment. So I had climbed on his back and he galloped me up to the neighbor's house and back, about an eighth of a mile each way, laughing all the way. Well, he suffered a really painful stiff neck for weeks afterward and never let me forget it. Even as adults, we'd still talk about it. I'd threaten to climb on again, and he'd back away and grab his neck, swearing it still hurt from the last time.

Then seven or eight years ago, my husband and I started spending summers up there in my home town where he and his lovely wife still live. In fact, they moved into the very house where MY family used to live, across from his parents house. How cool is that? So I have been blessed and privileged to be in contact with him more often, even enjoying dinner (my Lord, his wife can cook) at their house. My old house. A lot of people certainly knew him a lot better than I did, but all I can tell you is I just always felt better after seeing him. Life always seemed a little lighter around him. That chipped-tooth grin was worth a million bucks.

I can't believe he's gone. Someone who fills a room with his presence in such a positive way is so much more sorely missed. He was bigger than life. But the upside is that his memory is also huge. He will be remembered always with smiles and laughter, and that's the legacy of a successful life, in my book.

Thank you God for giving him to us. Now that he's Home and whole again, I guess he won't be doing the finger-up-the-nose-joke anymore. But I'm sure he'll think of something.