The aftermath of death

When a person dies sometimes more is lost than the deceased. Families and friends splinter without the deceased no longer holding the group together.

The University of Michigan football team is a high profile example of this. With the passing of legendary Coach Bo Schembechler, so went the appearance of unity in the ranks.Michigan football went from an autocracy speaking with one voice to a parliamentary democracy with people going their own separate ways. UM now has its Lloydists, Les Milesians, and RichRodrians. Out of uniformity, came chaos.

But as interesting as the internal strife within the UM football is, it isn't the reason why I am writing. The provocation that has caused me to blog is the chance viewing of an obituary of a relative whom I never met.

Lucille Peterson nee Towler, was my paternal grandmother's sister. My grandmother, June Quattro, passed away from lung cancer in 1969--some eight years before I was born.In my 33 years on this earth I have never met anyone from the Towler-Carpenter side of the family.It's as if they never existed.

Why did my grandmother's family never keep in close contact with my grandfather and his children? After all, my father and his siblings are as much Towlers' as they are Quattros'.

My family isn't alone in experiencing this. I myself have done the same with my mother's family after her death. (admittedly, the circumstances aren't the same. My mother and her family were not big parts of my experience growing up as I was raised by my father) I admit to having no second thoughts about eliminating contact with those whom I share genes with.

Why didn't they maintain contact? Were they never close to begin with? Was the emotional devastation of the loss of a sister too much for Mrs. Peterson? Why I'll never know.

All I do know is that I have family out there whom I'll never know. I know that I have distant family in Italy, Germany, Ireland, etc, but these people are much closer to me. These are people whom I can trace to my grandmother whom I know little about.

I suppose this is what has caused me to write this evening. A random email containing the obituary of the sister of a grandmother whom I never met evokes a feeling of sadness within me.Sadness over their deaths and perhaps more

I don't know June Quattro. I know her children and husband, but I don't know her. I don't know the person whose DNA makes up one quarter of my being.I am her youngest son's only child, yet when I see her picture I know nothing about the woman whom gave my father life and shaped his values--the same values that my father passed on to me.

When a person dies more than just the physical and emotional presence of the deceased goes with them. The ties that bound families together loosen, memories are lost or discarded due to the pain of remembering the lost loved one, and the person them self becomes a stranger to the generations who had little or no contact with the deceased.

We as a nation are told to remember the sacrifices of our nation's soldiers--and rightly so. But we should also take care to remember those of our family whom came before us for we wouldn't be here without them.