As far as appreciating them, it seems the older we get the farther apart we get. They don't get out as much, and we don't get out as much. And in some cases when you do see them, they don't know who you are.
When I first came to Alaska I got involved with an old family (First Wife) that had been here for years. Through them I met many of the old families in the area. After our divorce I did not see many of those people that much. Now I have noticed I am seeing their names in the Obituary every month or so. But one of the things that hits hardest is that over half of the people mentioned in the obits are younger than I am.
Was talking to my Mom yesterday. One of my Dad's cousins died last week. At the funeral people would came up and talk to Dad and he did not have a clue who they were. My brother Rob (Lionhunter) and I had talked about it a few years ago. Rob said one of the reasons our Dad was depressed was that all his friends and relatives are all dieing. After each funeral he would sit and think about it for days. He felt like he was soon to be the only one left. When his cousin Harold died last week, that was the last one of Dad's generation that I can think of. Dad is the last one of all the cousins of his generation, and Dad was far from being the youngest. Maybe it's a good thing he can no longer remember. He no longer sits and dwells on his mortality, he just sits there and sleeps.
There is an old lady here in Fairbanks, named Nancy. She really is not all that old, she is my age, she just looks it. Ouch, guess I'm old too. Any way her name is Nancy and she is now confined to a wheel chair. When we meet Nancy always wants a hug. Nancy lives in an assisted living facility, and her friends are always taking her out of the building shopping or to just get her out of the building. These people can not understand why Nancy wants a hug from me, she does not want anyone else to touch her. And Nancy can not tell them who I am, she does not remember my name, but she wants a hug, she knows there is something in our past. Nancy and I were a pretty hot couple back in the early 70s, we almost got married. But things just did not work out. I hug her, give her a kiss on the forehead, and squeeze her hand. Then she starts to cry, but she does not remember my name. It hurts to see Nancy that way, and I usually end up misty eyed as I walk away. But I cannot and will not avoid her.
