Bittersweet

My mother is an only child. Growing up, she was close to her cousins, especially one first cousin.

He was born on her fourth birthday. I suppose that bonded them in a special way. She tells the tale of them being at their grandparents house (his daddy and her mama were siblings) and being sent to get the mail.

Now, this was in the 1930's. They had to walk a piece then cross a foot log to get to the mailbox. My mother was (and still is) afraid of water, so she refused to do this. Instead, she made her four year old cousin (she was eight and bossy) do it.

Once, he'd been watching Superman and decided he could fly, too. So he snuck one of his baby sister's cloth diapers out, tied it around his neck, climbed up the bank on the back of the house, scrambled to the roof - and jumped.

Broke his arm.

There are many stories like that, some of them told about each other, some of them told about stuff they did together.

After their grandparents passed away, they weren't very close for a while. There was some hurt feelings in the family about "stuff", which is a shame.

But the last twenty-five years or more, things have been okay. They wrote each other goofy birthday cards, talked on the phone and he stopped by and visited a lot. Occasionally I'd take Mother to visit. He had birthday parties for one of his sisters who had some brain damage from a high fever as a little child, and never lived alone. Every Christmas he had a huge box of expensive nuts dressed up in a beautiful tin delivered to Mother.

Last year Mother didn't get a birthday card. She was worried. He finally called a few days later. He'd fallen and been in the hospital.

He started falling a lot. Part of it was due to his vision, which was getting worse all the time. He became very frail and feeble, looking older than his years.

A few weeks ago, he fell twice. Turns out he hadn't been able to eat solid foods in several days. They hospitalized him. I'm not sure about why he couldn't eat, but they decided to put a feeding tube in. When the doctor started talking about the procedure, he adamantly refused to have it done. "I'm weak and tired. I've been tired for a long time. I want to go Home. I  know my Lord is waiting on me."

A few days later he died.  The family looked exhausted at the funeral home. They were sad, but knew he had been right. He went very peacefully.

Early this week the UPS truck pulled up in Mother's yard. They delivered the beautiful tin full of candy coated nuts from him, just like clockwork.

Mother called me. She was in tears. Apparently he'd made all his preparation for this Christmas in advance. 

Bittersweet: the perfect definition.