It happened right in the midst of the televised parades and football, the two kinds of cranberry sauce, the various permutations of family get together. The wild card dropped on the carefully planned, no-surprises, standard issue holiday itinerary was my cousin's stroke.
Not one of the getting-senior-discount cousins, mind you, but Craig. Hysterically funny, crazy about his wife and kids, two-years younger than me Craig. One of the few cousins who actually looks good in a tank top. The other cousin who left town.
Most young people end up leaving Buffalo for work, but the Mohn kids are a stubborn lot. Of the 17 cousins, for many years, Craig and I were the only ones to leave.
At family get-togethers we'd talk about how we wanted to come back.
Two summers ago the conversation was moving past idle speculation. His daughter had just two more years to high school graduation he was only so many years from his federal service pension. His son could attend high school in Western New York.
By last summer I had moved back - and he promised to be not far behind. Cousin Bernie, who is one year younger than I and one older than Craig, was delighted. He talks frequently about "when Craig gets here."
While I never knew there could be such a thing, the stroke turned out to be a "good stroke" -- it saved his life by pointing up a more serious condition involving his heart. He can walk, talk and eat now and they are fully confident feeling will return to his right side.
As often happens, once the emergency was past, talk shifted to getting the kids back in school in Maryland, transfering hospitals, early retirement. The resumption of a brand new life made deliberately mundane by the concentration on banalities.
In his hospital room last night he was surrounded by flowers, gift baskets and family. His hospital gown was paired with a non-issue pair of pajama bottoms with a juenvile print. His beautiful blond son was propped up next to him in bed, quietly protective of his Dad.
We just stopped for a minute, adding another basket to the collection and needing to see for myself both that it did happen and he would be OK.
The evidence was all there on both counts. As we said our goodbyes to one and all, he leaned forward to give a hug. It was a hard, healthy, glorious hug that said instantly that Craig was dealing and it was going to be good.
Without a word, he reminded me that's the way we need to grab on and hold on to the people and things we love, hard and healthy. The IVs, monitors and the other things we don't plan on or want, are gonna show up no matter what you do.
You gotta grab tight to the things that matter.




Copyright 2005 Judi Griggs