Two weeks ago my family suffered a sudden and tremendous loss. My only aunt died while mowing her yard one Saturday morning. That day, phone calls from members of my family, text messages and the simple words, “I love you” took on new meaning. My kids lost a great-aunt who was the epitome of southern hospitality. My mother lost her only sister. My three first cousins lost their mom. The mom that each of them had spoken to the day before, only to realize they would never speak to her again.

From time to time I’ve written about my cousins, because as an only child, they have been everything to me. I wrote a poem for them that was recited at my wedding, I say the term like a badge of honor, and when they hurt, I hurt. All of them. Even though there are hundreds, I believe they all hung the moon. If there is such thing as cousin hierarchy though, my three first cousins sit at the top of the food chain. On sibling day, I celebrate them. My kids refer to them as their uncles and aunts, and since I’m the youngest, there is not a problem in the world that they can’t solve. When I had cancer, we held a conference call to talk about my treatment options and prognosis. I trust them.

Because they hung the moon. And people who hung the moon can do anything.  Continue reading →