Cousins

Okay, I am almost 41 years old, and working with an ancient computer. I am too practical to upgrade, though I may, in a fit of fury and impulsivity, rush out and buy something new and fancy one of these days. (Thank you dad for those genetics - I'll never forget the day Dad came home with a new combine in the middle of threshing season after fixing the old one just ONE too many times.)

So that's a long prelude to say that the above pictures refuse to move into lovely places where I want them to be..............

I went through many photos this last week, and prepared a couple of collages to put up at Ken's funeral. The above were some of my favorites. Ken's the cute little guy on the far left in both. In both pictures, I am next to my cousin Grace. The front row, in the second picture is: me, Grace, my sister Joyce (see Chronicles of Blunderview,) my sister Kathy, and cousin Bev.

Grace and I were "book buddies" as kids. We both loved to read, and I loved going to her house for a few reasons:

1. She had books I hadn't read yet.
2. She never pestered me to play things like dolls or Barbies.
3. We never had to talk about what to do. We just read. When her mom thought Grace was being an ungracious hostess (how punny is that?!) and chased us outside to play on a beautiful summer day, we took our books to the hayloft where her mom couldn't see us.

Grace and her family moved away when I was 11. We saw each other infrequently for the next 15 years. She pursued her love of books and words, and got her PhD in English. I continued to read for fun, but went into physiotherapy to support my book habit.

Then we ran into each other at our cousin Bev's wedding social. I offered Grace a place to stay that night. She slept on the floor (why on earth did I not give her my bed?!) in my newly purchased little house. We talked and talked and talked. We became family again.

She ate it up. Having grown up away from our massive (and often intense) family, she hadn't had the ?pleasure? of having us as an available frame of reference as to how the Kehler brains operate. Over the past 12 or 13 years, we have made sure that our paths continue to cross. She lives conveniently close to Toronto, so I always made sure I had time for a visit on trips through when I lived in the middle east.

Grace came to Winnipeg for Ken's funeral yesterday. She came to his party last night. She talked and talked and talked. Ken's good friend Dylan shook his head at the discovery that there was a Kehler who could talk more than Ken did.

I am so pleased to count Grace as a friend. So pleased that we are connected as family. That we are lucky enough to be part of the same clan. That in spite of growing up miles apart, we value the same things. That there are things we understand about each other without having to go into long explanations.

My cousin. My friend.

A Procrastinator's 40th birthday party

On Saturday, September 30th, I am hosting my 40th birthday party, 365 days after I actually turned 40.

Since I have not gotten around to inviting people, please consider this your invitation. It will be a potluck, starting around 5:30 or 6:00. I'd love for us to mill about on my deck, but haven't gotten around to organizing that building project. I do hope to buy a barbeque between now and Saturday.

Now I need to hem some pants that have been lurking in my closet for the past few months, in an attempt to look somewhat civilized tomorrow.

Procrastination. An under-rated skill.

Funeral

A celebration of my dear brother Ken's life will be held tomorrow - Tuesday September 26 - at First Mennonite Church on Notre Dame at Alverstone at 11:00.

Some people have been reading the obituary to mean that it will be a private family ceremony. Please understand that this is definitely not the case. We want people to gather, remember Ken, share memories, and have some closure if that is what funeral services do for you.

That's all, for now.

Autumn

This summer, there have been multiple posts written on this blog, but they never made it past my head. There are even pictures to go with the posts. Those got past my head; they are in my camera. At some point, if I ever feel together enough, some of these things will make themselves seen.

It's been an indescribable summer. From diagnosis (June 27) to death (September 20) we had just under 3 months to enjoy our wonderful brother and blunder along this cancerous path. I like things to be black and white, and kept wishing for a manual. (not really, I'm not that sick.)

What was very clear from the very beginning, and continues to be the only completely clear thing, is love. Those of us lucky enough to be recipients of generous amounts of this elixir know its healing touch and soothing presence. Love provides a frame of reference when everything else has stopped having any meaning at all.

On Wednesday afternoon, I returned to the beautiful prayer room at my church, where I had met with friends back in June. Once again, surrounded by love, we cried, laughed, talked, and prayed.

And we go on. The leaves are falling, they are crunchy underfoot. Furnaces will soon be purring in our houses. Children grow, new memories are formed, we treasure the old ones.

September has always been my favorite month. Ironically, it is also the month that has always been the hardest for me emotionally. Perhaps it is the presence of intensity and the willingness to be completely present with whatever comes. In any case, it is always transition time, and one filled with pain and beauty.

May it always be filled with love.

Autumn