Familiar Faces

It’s been two and half years since the initial reconnection was made. My brother mentioned that a childhood friend, who lived across the street from us, had asked about me in a Facebook group. When I joined the group, I received a friend request from my cousin Regina, who was also part of the group. These were the first steps in restoring 45 lost years. My father came from a large Italian family. He was one of five. Together they had 19 children. I am the oldest grandchild. Growing up in the 1950s and 1960s, we saw each other all the time. We would spend birthdays and holidays together. My father and his older brother Frank bought a two family house together in 1954. Frank and his wife Gloria and their seven kids lived downstairs, and we lived upstairs. Regina is Frank’s second oldest child. But, everything changed during my college years.

My father and Frank had family disagreements that I was unaware of at the time. Being away at college, I was out of the loop and probably completely self involved. The first real break occured when my father sold his half of the house to Frank, and moved away to another neighborhood in 1970. The final break came when my grandmother died in 1973. There were two versions of what happened. Neither very pretty. But I was starting out on a career, and much to my regret, didn’t appreciate the damage that was done. Maureen and I got married in 1975. We moved to New Jersey for a few years, before a job change sent us to Philadelphia in 1979.

Maureen comes from a large Irish family. She has 19 cousins. She remains very close to a couple, but knows where everyone is around the country. I had none of that. As years went by, I continued to wonder how this could have happened, and where everyone was.  Twenty years ago, I challenged my father to get answers about what happened. He got very angry and used language I never heard him use before in a phone call I will never forget. My mother called me back to try to patch things up. As has happened before in my family, there was no resolution. My father and I continued our relationship as if the conversation never took place. He died suddenly in 2002, and we had never spoken about it again.

I always had a feeling of guilt that I had could have repaired the damage. I wondered what my aunts, uncles, and cousins thought about what happened to us. Were they angry with me? I felt that I had lost part of my hertiage. Pulled from the earth, as the roots remained in the ground. My relationships and a feeling of being part of something bigger than myself was gone before I realized it. I couldn’t tell our own sons, and some day our grand daughters, about this huge extended family they have. That changed with one friend request.

I didn’t know what to expect when Regina reached out. I was enveloped. We exchanged long Facebook messages about our families. Who had kids? Where were they living?  We exchanged old and new family pictures. As word spread that this long lost cousin had come out of the wilderness, messages and histories started pouring in. My cousin Roselee is one of my father’s sister’s children. She was very young when the break happened and had no memory of me, but she was overwhelmingly welcoming. A short time later, I got a message from Regina’s brother Michael John that my Aunt Jennie wanted me to call her. Jennie is my father’s youngest sister, and his last living sibling.

I could hear the excitement in her voice when she picked up the phone. She made me feel that I was truly missed. We arranged for me to come to her house for lunch. When I walked in the door, I got a big hug that I never thought would happen. We spent three hours talking and eating. Exchanging stories and trying to catch up on years lost. She felt terrible about the break in the family and the hurt it caused. It made me feel connected to someone who had the same feelings I had about the loss of something precious.

Over the last two years, we had a chance to meet many of my cousins at both happy and sad occasions. Two years ago, Regina invited us to a branch the day after her son’s wedding in New Jersey. I was apprehensive, but again I was met with open arms. This summer I got to see many of them again. This time at a wake for my Aunt Gloria, Regina’s mother. I got to see her at the brunch two years ago. She was 93, and surrounded by family when she passed away.

It’s hard to discribe the feeling I get talking with my cousins and looking at the adult faces. I remember them as children. I can see how they have grown older, and they remind me of their parents. Roselee and my cousin Julia are planning a family reunion where I hope to meet Roselee and her brothers and sister. I look forward to another day of being surrounded by familiar faces.