When I look at the photo above I see pure joy. It was taken on my wedding day many, many years ago. I don’t usually post personal photos here.

I am the oldest of 16 grandchildren. I can picture myself in the place and time of all except the first one’s birth (I was too young). I remember the day Gary was born, we were all at my grandparent’s house, anxiously waiting for the call. I believe the phone was blue, it was hanging on the wall—a rotary phone. At the time, you didn’t know the gender of the baby beforehand, so we waited with excitement for the call. (One of the reasons I decided not to find out the gender of my son before his birth.) With each birth, a different memory. Some I can even pinpoint the day of the week, the weather, and where I was standing.

I am closer in age to my aunts than most of my first cousins. Half of them were born after I went to college. We are slowly scattering across the country and multiple contents but NY is always home-base.

The recent passing of our young cousin Jessie has caught us all off guard. There was already so much sadness in the world and it just made everything so much heavier. I watched many of my cousins (I have hundreds) express their sadness.

Unfortunately I have witnessed many family members and friends passing from long distance. Most of them were at the end of their lifespan so we knew our time was limited. Each time I said goodbye in NY, I said it with intention because I never knew if that time would be the last. I made my peace. I missed many funerals and was ok with it because as Aunt Dot always said, she wanted to see me while she was alive, not after she was dead. I found a path to grieving here in California, mostly at hot sweaty yoga classes. Something about being in that hot room, practicing yoga with other humans, tears disguised as sweat. Except this time there was no yoga studio to go to.

The passing of Jessie hits so much harder. For one she was 22 and about to graduate college. She had overcome so many obstacles in her life and was a story of success. She had two beautiful children she loved dearly. The double whammy is that this occurred unexpectedly in the time of Covid-19. Ten people maximum at a funeral. No room filled with people to share a memory or tear. For a close Italian-American family that spends every moment together, it was difficult enough to social distance but now we are told to mourn social distantly—heartbreaking. My aunt couldn’t have her siblings there to support her.

So where do we go from here? I do not have an answer. I have found a way to honor those I loved dearly that have departed this world in a variety of ways. Cooking the meals they used, flowers in the vase they gave me, etc… I will find a way to honor Jessie but as an immediate way, I have decided to dedicate every single yoga practice to a different cousin beginning with my grandparents 16 grandchildren.

With each death a new song emerges. The current soundtrack playing in my head for the past few weeks is Family, performed by Dar Williams, written by Pierce Ray Pettis.

Can you fix this? It's a broken heart.
It was fine, but it just fell apart.
It was mine, but now I give it to you,
Cause you can fix it, you know what to do.

Let your love cover me,
Like a pair of angel wings,
You are my family,
You are my family.

We stood outside in the summer rain,
Different people with a common pain.
A simple box in that hard red clay,
Where we left him to always remain.

Let your love cover me,
Like a pair of angel wings,
You are my family,
You are my family.

The child who played with the moon and stars,
Waves a snatch of hay in a common barn,
In the lonely house of Adam's fall
Lies a child, it's just a child that's all, crying

Let your love cover me,
Like a pair of angel wings,
You are my family,
You are my family.