Bridges

My family gathered this past Saturday in Glenwood Springs, Colorado to celebrate and remember the life of my Aunt Suzanne Shumate, or as she'll always be to me, Aunt Suzy. The location, a train depot high in the mountains of Colorado - in a town visited by many for healing - was perfect. We heard from one of her "girly girl" friends, a group of six women whose friendship began 50 years ago at age 12, when they attended junior high together. Suzanne's grandchildren, Jayden, Nora, and Grace honored her, Jayden with his heartfelt words, and Nora and Grace with their beautiful voices, joined by Suzanne's daughter Sarah. Their three voices blended together perfectly as they sang "It Is Well With My Soul", the words and their voices soothing our minds and hearts. 

Tributes were also shared by my cousins Tony, Michelle, and Adam (Suzanne's son), my mom, and Suzanne's husband John. Even the trains paid tribute, with one arriving at the station during her service, its mournful whistle carrying across the valley and into the hearts of our gathered family, the descendants of generations of railroaders. 

Suzanne was the caboose in her family, born when her siblings were already pre-teens and teens. She was a bridge between the generations, closer in age to some of her nieces and nephews than to her older siblings. The five oldest grandchildren (Tony, Ryan, Michelle, Michael and I) born when Suzanne was still a child living at home, each shared an especially unique bond with our Aunt Suzy. 

As children, we all admired and tried to emulate her in a kind of hero worship way. She was cool and fun! She was stylish and beautiful with thick, waist-length brown hair, and a popular class officer and cheerleader. For me, she was exactly what I wanted to be when I grew up. To us cousins, she wasn't quite a peer, but also wasn't a "grown up" and authority figure in our lives like our parents. Our bonds with her were formed when we were babies and lasted throughout our lives. She made sure to stay connected to each of us as we grew up. We each have stories of her making time and space for us in her life and home at critical points in our pre-teen and teenage years during turbulent times in our lives.

Suzanne and my cousin Tony.

Suzanne and my cousin Michelle.

Grandpa, my brother Ryan, grandma, and Suzanne on a visit to see newborn me.

As a pre-teen, I would spend weeks during the summers at her home in Colorado. There, for the first time in my life, I had my own room, a quiet space where I could read and just be alone. During the days, I would "nanny" for her while she worked, taking care of my niece and nephew and keeping things clean around the house. As she did with so many young women both in her family and her corporate career, she was quietly teaching me my worth in the world. She paid me a fair wage for my work, giving me my first taste of the freedom and independence earning my own money could bring. She gave me a great deal of responsibility, but also let me know she believed I could capably handle what she asked of me. She also gave me something I didn't realize then that I needed, which was time, space, and freedom from the responsibilities I had at home. I hope she knew what a gift those times were for me. 

Death, and the rituals of mourning, offer an opportunity to reflect on life. As we have so many times before, my family gathered under one roof and shared food, laughter and our hearts with one another. All of the cousins we there except one, together for one night. We looked at old family photos spread out on the table and hung on makeshift displays around the vacation rental home, reminiscing about the past. We marveled at the family resemblances passed down from one generation to the next, laughed at old hairstyles and clothes, and told stories. Mostly we talked, catching up on the happenings in each other's lives. 

Decorating Easter eggs in grandma's kitchen.

One thing I really love about my French cousins (the family surname, not because they're from France) is that we are unabashed about telling each other that we love and treasure our relationships with one another. We make sure to verbalize what we all feel. "I love you." "I'm here for you." "Thank you for coming to share this time together." We were together to mourn the loss of our Aunt Suzy, yet it was also a celebration of sorts. A celebration of family ties, love, and life. We realize that our time together is precious and rare, and none of us take it for granted. 

French Cousins - November 2, 2019