One of my favorite people in the world, a dear cousin, is facing his end-of-life journey. When we spoke in February, he knew his time was short and given the geographic distance that separates us and his growing incapacity, communication (tragically one of his greatest gifts) has become infrequent. A few text messages have been exchanged here and there but no more Zoom chats or extended phone calls.
Two weeks ago my heart was especially heavy as I thought about his grown children and grandchildren, wondering how I might help. I felt hapless and helpless, seeking a way to cherish and celebrate my dear one in a way that might matter to him and his extended family. Now…or later.
I sat down and wrote a letter to him, after I peeked at Ancestry.com to confirm a fact – the amount of ‘shared DNA’ between my cousin and myself. It provided great comfort when I saw, a few months ago, that we had a blessed 9% in common. You might think, “that’s all?” but if you knew him…you’d understand that 9% = magic. He’s lived a life of service and achievement. I would’ve been happy if the number was 2% or 5%.
Here’s a portion of what I wrote, editing a few details for privacy reasons:
“Some time ago while noodling around in Ancestry.com I realized I hadn’t looked at the ‘shared DNA’ info provided – the genetic match between the two of us.
I smiled when I saw the 9% shared DNA, thinking, “Okay – good enough. Given a choice, I’d have taken more, but 9%? Yeah, man!”
I imagine the 9% consists of our love of dogs…not just beagles…our love of family, meatballs, and our willingness to share ourselves with others even when the bits at the surface are prickly and painful. We do it anyhow, in part because it’s how we keep the memories of those we’ve lost, front and center.
It’s the 9% that reminds me that kids from immigrant families in downtrodden Ohio CAN make their way in the world. We did, while we watched loved ones languish and decline…in the decay that’s held some captive in a small, sad town for their entire lives. But not you – and not me. We found our way out. You were an athlete and a scholar with charisma to spare, welcomed everywhere you went. That’s good DNA, I say. And if I have even a teensy bit of that, wrapped up in our genetic, shared ‘soup’, I’m one lucky girl.
I love you. I’ve always adored and admired you but never more so than right now. If I could do anything to change the course for you, I would. You know I would.”
I’m feeling helpless, still, but I’m continuing to jot down memories when they occur to me. It’s one way of keeping him close. Now and always.
Thanks so much for reading.
Vicki 💔
Victoria Ponders 
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