And you know, no one gets why this is so hard, because cousins are those people that you don't really know, the people you see every few years at holiday functions, and that you struggle to make small talk with. Cousins are rarely the people that you've grown up with, that you've adopted into your heart, that you've prayed for so often and so fervently.
It
all started with the divorce. My aunt and uncle - my parents best
friends - were ending it. He cheated, she called for a divorce, fingers
were pointed, hearts were torn. And their four girls were caught in the
mix. Four children caught in the mix of the lies, and deceit, and anger of
adults.
My
aunt didn't want them caught up in all of it, she tried to save them
from as much of the pain as possible, and I think that's part of why
those four girls spent so much time at my house from this time on. Those
four cousins of mine became half (if not whole) sisters, and we shared
time, rooms, and even a vacation.
Time
goes on. I ache for the uncle I thought I had, and I pray for him to
come back. After a while though, those prayers become fewer and farther
between, and I begin to pray that my aunt will find happiness, and that
the girls can have a daddy again someday. Some how. I pray, pray, pray.
In
the meantime, six years pass, and these little girls grow up. The older ones and I start talking about big girl things - dates, and jobs, and
the not-too-distant prospect of their college choices.
Then,
plot twist, just when everything seems settled, Prince Charming swoops
in and saves my aunt from the fate of loneliness. He proposes. He
marries her. And I hate him for it.
Don't
get me wrong. He's the best guy she's had an interest in since the
divorce and he truly seems to care for the kids. But he's moving them
all across the country tomorrow, and they have little promise of
returning. Sure, they say they might be back for Christmas, but when any
promise goes from a "definitely" to a "maybe" in one month, I know
they're just saying it to give the poor kids some hope.
And
yet, although I know it's bogus, I told my cousin sisters that I would
see them all at Christmas when I hugged them goodbye. Sometimes I think
we need the lies we tell ourselves, just to get us through. Through that is, until the
car door shuts, the tail lights fade from their faces, and I can be
alone to weep.
So
this is life's cruel joke. I spend so much time praying that she'll
find the perfect fit, and when she does, he takes away four people that
I've grown to love in the meantime. Four little impressionable, lovable,
great people. People I'll never get to see grow up the rest of the way,
people who will most likely find husbands in their new state, and
settle down in a place where I can't reach them on a day to day basis.
And
don't try to sell me that "long distance relationships are totally
great" crap, cause I know that's a lie. People never invest in their
absent friends like they do in their present ones. No matter how hard
you try.
So here
I am, mourning alone, trying to be happy for them, yet only finding
myself in all this mess. How typically narcissistic of me. I know God has a plan for them, and girls that grow up with a father that does more than skip out on paying child support for them have a much better chance for a normal and healthy emotional life.
But you know, I
think the thing that terrifies me most is that I'm going to run into
one of these cousins four years from now at a Christmas Eve party, and
while we stand there sipping our punch, I'm going to struggle to find
something to talk about. Maybe we'll just resort to the weather.
