In Memoriam

This past weekend, Fathers' Day was celebrated in the US. During my youth, my extended maternal family in Montana held an annual family picnic to celebrate the occasion, with my maternal grandfather - the patriarch of my mother's side of the family - as the honored guest. His seven sons-in-law, my father and uncles, were also honorees. But Fathers' Day was most emblematic of Grampa K.

My paternal grandfather and my uncles and aunts on my father's side of the family all lived farther west - most in Washington state. I don't recall ever celebrating Fathers' Day with them, at least not on the day itself.

In September 1966, however, Grampa K passed away. Good farmer as he had become, he had duly completed his fall harvest, returned home, eaten dinner with my grandmother and gone to bed early. The next morning, he simply never woke up. It was a real shock for the family because there had been no indication whatsoever that Grampa K was in ill health. If anything, it was my grandmother whose health was dicey. Grama K lived on until 1983, however. She left us on the day before her 92nd birthday.

Once Grampa K was no longer with us, the annual Fathers' Day picnics became sporadic, finally sputtering out altogether. Of course, we older cousins had grown up and away, several of us moving out of state - in my case, out of the country altogether - and our parents were also busy with the needs of their growing families. But after Grama K's death, those of the youngest cousins who had become adults and were still based in Montana decided to reinstate the traditional family picnic, if for no reason than to give their own children the same sense of family community we had all experienced while we were growing up.  While attendance of us "outsiders" usually depends on whether we're in Montana at the time, a core group of Montanans makes a point of getting together on the day in a central location, usually a small community park.

The last time that HWMBO and I were able to attend the picnic was in 2008, during our six-week cross-country trek from Maryland to California and back. The picnic was also a happy occasion because it commemorated the 60th wedding anniversary of Aunt E and Uncle PJ. At the time, Aunt E was one of three remaining sisters. Uncle PJ was the last uncle survivor. Happily, both are still with us.

This past weekend, those in Montana gathered for the annual picnic, but with a more sobering theme. This year the picnic also served as a family memorial for my Aunt L, who passed away in April. Aunt L had not wanted a funeral or any other event. In fact, she had donated her body to a medical school. But as we who are left behind know well, funerary events are for us the living, for the closure that they provide. So those of Aunt Lil's children and grandchildren who were able to travel to Montana - all now live outside the state - joined the rest of the family to remember her there. Those of us who could not attend sent memorial tributes to be read and compiled for her family.

Here are some photos of Aunt L as she was at the picnic in 2008.

RIP Aunt L! We love and miss you.