A few weeks ago, I had the unfortunate task of attending my Auntie Barbara's wake. Auntie Barbara was married to my dad's brother and was also my godmother. Although I hadn't seen her in a number of years, I loved her very much and was saddened by her passing.
The wake itself was not sad, and although the circumstances were not the most uplifting, it was good to see my first cousins again.
There are 8 of us all together: my cousins Donnie, Cathy, Jimmy and Joe, myself and my sisters Alisa, Laurel and Mary.
While I was at the wake, after I had talked with each member of the family, I stood back and observed my surroundings for a bit. A split second of panic overtook me...
Where Are The Grown-Ups??
I looked over to my Uncle Donnie, who was sitting in his wheelchair, paralyzed on one side from a stroke. My dad was sitting next to him, a couple of months post heart surgery. I looked around the room at the white hair and stooped bodies, and I recognized that these were the adults of my generation. The musicians and friends and family, who were the jokesters and pranksters and loud and funny, were now the elders. And...Oh. My. God. WE are now the adults!
Wait, that can't be. US?
The eight of us who agonized over chocolate or butterscotch Jell-O pudding pops at Nan and Pup's in between games of Jarts? (Yes, I'm talking lawn darts. Not the sissy lawn darts of today, with their safe, rounded bottoms. No. These were the real things, with spikes on the ends that would spear our bare feet if we weren't careful!)
The eight of us (okay, the six of you) who would swim out to the float in the middle of the lake, leaving little Debbie on the shore desperately digging for China?
The eight of us who were banished to the outside while the adults ate and partied on the top of the mountain? (You'll be okay, just watch out for the bears)
The eight of us who took our respected turns sneaking chocolates from Auntie Bea's carefully hidden box under the couch? Who gratefully accompanied Pup on his Saturday morning visits and a trip to A&W for lunch and a root beer?
The eight of us who could, to this day, probably still belt out a round of "Out Behind The Barn"?
WE are the grown-ups?
Our children are now the kids and before we know it, their kids will be the kids.
That means...that we will be...the elders?!?!
Well, how about this. When we are the elders and we gather together for one function or another, I'll pull my walker up to your wheelchair and we'll all have a laugh together!
Barbara Concannon Doane
November 1, 1931-May 9, 2015
