Genealogists spend vast amounts of time fiiling in the dash of their ancestors. By dash, of course, I mean the en-dash that separates the dates of birth and death for an individual. While it can be exciting to be able to do this for our ancestors from times past, it is a sad duty to have to do it in the present.
Last week, my cousin Andrew passed away after a brave fight with cancer, brought on by chemicals he worked with when he was young. He is the second of the eighteen cousins on my mother’s side of the family to go, both far younger than they should have. I have just returned from the wake and funeral. While it was a time of great sadness, there were also great moments of reconnecting with family members whom we don’t get to see often enough.
It didn’t take long for the genealogist to pop out once I arrived. Andrew’s brother-in-law was standing in the hallway and we started talking. His son came over to say hello. I hadn’t seen him in many years. He is now thirty years old and lives not far from me in Boston. He is interested in his paternal heritage, which is Armenian. His grandmother’s side were survivors of the Armenian Genocide, whilst his grandfather’s side has been in the U.S. since the 1880s. We had an enjoyable discussion of resources, etc.
It didn’t take long for the conversation to turn to all of the relatives in the room. He had questions about who people were, and how we are all related. It was nice to see a younger family member be so interested. I also told him many stories of his great-grandparents (my grandparents) who both died before he was born. He was also astounded when I explained the age range in my generation spans more than forty years. His eldest uncle (and my eldest first cousin), Raymond, is sixty-three years old. He is two years older than our uncle, Roger, who is sixty-one. Roger’s twin daughters only just turned twenty years old a couple of weeks ago.
For me, it was a great opportunity to catch up on the younger generations. Three of my cousins are grandparents themselves. I was able to collect more information on these new additions to the family. It was also amazing to see the family resemblances. My cousins asked me to put together a video with pictures of their late brother, which I gladly did. They sent me the photographs, and as I was sorting them, I saw a Christmas picture from the early 1970s, and said to myself “What is my mother doing there?” Then I looked again and realized it couldn’t be my mother. It was actually my grandmother.
Wakes and funerals are difficult times. They are very frequently a mixed bag of emotions. Sadness is combined with the joy of seeing family members one hasn’t seen in awhile. I wouldn’t suggest breaking out a notebook and writing things down (although a simple reminder note or two has been known to make their way into my phone), but use the time to set definite plans to get together again in person soon. Then you can really get some genealogy done.
A few years ago, the first of my generation of cousins passed away. After the funeral, his brother hosted a get-together for the family. We laughed and cried some more, and talked. And I brought my camera. I got a photograph of my mother with her sister and brothers (probably the last one that will ever be taken of them). Then I got all of the children who were there into the picture as well (twelve out of the seventeen surviving cousins). I had copies made of both photographs for all of the cousins.
This time around, my cousin’s son and I will soon be getting together for dinner and researching into his Armenian roots. My mother’s cousin and I will be getting together soon so I can share information with her, and she can show me the wedding portrait of my great-great-grandparents back in the 1870s.