Family and a Funeral

"Death is no more than passing from one room into another.

But there's a difference for me, you know.

Because in that other room I shall be able to see. "

-Helen Keller

A few weeks ago my grandmother died.

No, don't feel bad. Even though I was named after her and everyone says I'm the spiting image of her, I didn't know her. I'm the eldest grand-daughter of the clan, but I have no relationship with my grandparents. It's not anyone's fault. It's just the way things are.

But I flew to Puerto Rico anyway. Mostly to support my Dad. He wasn't the eldest or the youngest, but my grandmother always loved him in a special way. I knew that her death would be hard on him, so I went mostly to offer a presence.

And I'm glad I went. I saw people from my father's side of the family that I hadn't seen in years. My uncle Goergie and his wife, titi Mirta, whom I lived with for a few months when I was in 10th grade and lived in Chicago. My uncle Howell and his wife, whom I hadn't seen since I was eight. I have a brood of cousins that live in Puerto Rico that I hadn't seen since my son was born nine years ago. How interesting they all are.

There's my cousin Mike, a big ol' linebacker of a guy who teaches elementary-school English to mostly poor kids up in the mountains. His soft-spoken younger brother, Charlie, who works as a fireman and lives with his beautiful wife, also a teacher, and his little boy, in whose face I see the little boy I used to play with as a kid. The youngest of the three, Steven, is as tall and as big as an oak tree, but his profession as a paramedic and his constant ministration to my elderly, heart-broken grandfather, made him seem more like the proverbial gentle giant.

I talked to my older half-brother, Elvis, who drives three hours to work as an engineer on the other side of the island every day. His soft-spoken manner and calm and cool attitude about life contrasts sharply with that of his wife, a high school teacher whose so warm and inviting and energetic you can't help but want to envelope her in your arms and laugh.

I also met their children: a beautiful 7th grader who spoke flawless English and reminded me so much of myself at that age it was almost painful -- black-rimmed glasses and all. I discovered she likes all things Harry Potter, is slightly obsessed with teen heart throb, Justin Bieber, and like my own son, likes to read Diary of a Wimpy Kid books. Her little brother had a knack for making me laugh. I watched as he rode up and down the front porch on my grandmother's old wheel chair simply because he's a kid and he can get away with it. His favorite game is Angry Birds, he loves the computer and he can name all nine planets in Italian, Spanish and English! I laughed as he repeated my name in Spanish over and over again and I prayed that he wouldn't forget it.

It's funny how death brings a family together again. And it's actually quite sad as well. Because it reminds you of all the time that was wasted, all the time that has passed and that you will never get back. Could we have grown up to be close? Gathering together for holidays and birthdays and weddings and births? Would we have been friends that talked about broken hearts and lost loves and wicked ex-wives after Sunday dinner?Would we have talked about potty-training and time-outs over coffee and cake?

Maybe.

But it doesn't do you any good to dwell on the what if's or to pine away at the could-have-beens. I guess the important thing is to do what you can now. To re-establish a connection that was lost. To begin a new one where there was once none. To make an effort. To try. And then to keep at it, even if it's hard and even if it's one-sided.

I didn't really know my grandmother, but her death has taught me a lot. It's taught me how important people are. Family. Relationships. Children. How not to wait until something as tragic as death to get re-connected with one another.

Will my thoughts actuallly turn into real-life actions? Or is this just emotion talking? Words that will be swept  away by the wind once things settle back to normal? I hope not.

If you find yourself in a similar situation, don't wait until the next funeral to re-connect with your family. I'm not saying you have to be best buds with everyone in your clan, but a letter or a phone call every once in a while doesn't hurt. Plan a family vacation together. A family re-union. Create a website where anyone can post pictures or comments that will keep even the most far-away family members in the loop. Make an effort to remember birthdays and anniversaries. Sometimes even a simple email or text can bring a surprise smile to someone who just needed to know that someone remembers them.

And don't forget to pray. For all of them. Even the ones you don't really know. Because the next time everyone gets together just might be because someone else died. (Maybe even you.)

And wouldn't that be a shame.