Friday, August 26, 2005

Downtime

Nothing like a little time away from everyday life to reconnect with me. Can't believe i'm down to a post a month - if that. Hmmm...

I'm at a lovely b&b in Seattle and came to polliblog for some pix i posted of my cousin who passed away in march.

his memorial is tomorrow and i received a card in the mail months ago, inviting me to put something creative and memorable on an 8.5x11 in piece of paper and bring it for the keepsake book they're putting together in his memory.

i went for a run around a nearby lake this morning and felt something for the first time in weeks other than frustration, stress and anxiety.

new job is great - a means to an end, but one step away from it and I see how consumed i am with providing, planning, scheming and taking care of this family.

what it must be like to not have children - such freedom. but I wouldn't trade it.

anyhow, back to the memorial. I decided i needed to bring something for this book on my cousin and i wrote this below and will put it together with some pix.

hope to be back soon, thanks for visiting after all this time.

Many of my memories of Z are from the ski trips our families used to make every year while we were growing up. His was the first voice I would hear as I walked in for breakfast in the morning, usually giggling about something or laughing at somebody. What a contagious laugh! I could never quite figure out whom or what was so funny, but I still had to laugh anyhow, and realize now it was most likely at me.

Aunt Zo had this phrase she would repeat when we were younger, a motto really, “Strangers are just the friends I haven’t met yet.” Z seemed to take this particularly to heart and, literally, made friends out of strangers wherever he went. Many times we would come down to the plaza from the ski slopes and he’d be there talking to someone new every time, as he waited for the rest of us at the end of the day. Sometimes it was an older gentleman, other times a college student with a few of their friends, next a young married couple. It didn’t matter who or how old they were, Z could magically connect with just about anybody.

He simply enjoyed people and every bit of what someone brought to the table. He could see right through to the heart of you and poke fun at all your shameful flaws, which in the end, you’d be much more willing to accept with a healthy dose of his humor. That was Z’s gift and what I will remember him for most of all.
In the end, he proved to me that no matter what dice you throw, you can always find the best move, play a great game (backgammon, of course!) and be a champion in the end. I am more proud of him than of anyone I’ve known. Because of his example and unimaginable courage, I will live each moment of my life with more gratitude and awe. I will speak honestly, as he always could. I will listen to the other side, no matter how strongly I disagree, and in the end, I may still disagree, but at least I’ll know exactly why.