A Life Apart

My cousin Adrian died this month. I had not seen him in eight years. I flew into Portland, Oregon where he lived -- where much of my family lives -- for the memorial service last week. Adrian, who was only 35, had a heart condition his whole life, so we knew he was a bit more fragile than most, but he never saw it that way. In our family, Adrian was always the one who reached out to keep in touch. He wrote emails, sent cards and made calls to stay connected. He spread the news of births and new jobs and good wishes between a clan of disparate and busy family members. Sadly, it was Adrian who brought us all together again after all these years.