The passing of a generation

My parents are both from large families, one having 10 siblings and the other 12. My father died 8 years ago and last week was the funeral of one of his sisters; of the 11 children just one remains alive now. My mother's sister passed away later during the night after the funeral home visitation for my dad's sister.  My mom is one of 13 (13 that lived; another 5 died in infancy or were stillborn) but now 5 of the 13 have passed and many of the others are in poor health. The generation of my parents is rapidly passing away.

This is yet another season of life it seems. We have been hearing about the veterans from World War 2 and how they all will soon be gone. My dad was one of those, having gone from Normandy to Berlin during WWII. Still, seeing so many in our extended family confront death does give pause to consider this season of life. When I finished college it seemed like everyone was getting married and there were tons of weddings to attend. A few years later there were babies being born to so many folks that it was hard to keep up with all the new babies among friends and relatives.  Now it seems there is another season, a sadder one that contains too many funerals.

As I have been looking back on the lives of my parents and their siblings I am reminded of what they lived through. They grew up in the Great Depression and then World War II. Their stories of what that was like formed the backdrop for much of what they sought to impress upon me and my generation about the value of work, the value of money, the importance of pulling together when things are hard, and about faith in the midst of trial and hardship.  I vividly recall sitting as child in my grandparents living room around the pot-bellied stove listening to the adults talk about the Depression, the war, the things they did to get by like trapping for furs, fishing and hunting to supply meat for the table, and the various trials and adventures of living on a farm in the Depression and during the rationing of the war. Yes, as in the John Denver song about 'Grandma's Feather-bed' they would also 'spit and chew' (King Bee twist tobacco was the chew of choice for my grandparents, as I recall). They wanted to spare us, their children, from those kinds of hardships but still hoped we would learn to share their values that were learned through that experience. In our family at least, the family itself was also highly valued and through our growing up my parents and their siblings made sure we often had reunions for the extended family to be together. For many years when a large group lived in the same area near Cincinnati we often had 3 or 4 reunion events every summer at Memorial Day, July 4, Labor Day and Christmas. Many of my mom's brothers boarded with us for a while after finishing high school while they found a job and 'got on their feet', as they moved from the farm to the city to find work. That is what family was for.

The family is more scattered now in differing locations; reunions are rare; the kind of closeness we experienced as I grew up in the extended family seems to be a thing of the past. The funerals this past week reminded me of all that. Our busy lives seem to have less time for family, especially extended family. I don't know if that can be re-instituted but I do feel we have lost something. As these family members pass I pause to remember how they were an important part of my life and the life of our whole extended family. They will be missed by many of us. Their legacy remains in the lives they touched.