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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 💔

39 thoughts on “Love, Loss & 9 Percent”

  1. So beautiful, Vicki. And for him, thank you. So many people feel they do not know what to say when someone’s approaching death, so they say nothing. I would prefer to go out on the words of love. This is a gift you have given him, and yourself. Bless you. ❤️

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    2. It takes, like Maggie said, a special kind of person to reach out to another.
      It takes, like Maggie said, an extra special kind of person to reach out to someone who’s suffering, and is at the end of their life.
      It takes an even more special kind of person to reach out to someone who’s at the end of their life and find commonalities with them, a way to include them your life.
      It takes an extraordinarily special,kind of person to reach out to someone who’s at the end of their life, find a way to include them your life, and shroud them in love.

      You are that extraordinarily special person, I’m honored to know you 💖

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      1. Oh my goodness, EW. Your kindness is overwhelming…most of all, I’d like to say ‘right back at you’….your big heart shines through and navigating love and loss isn’t easy, which you know so well. I’m sending a big, big hug to you this morning. Thank you for being you. xo! 💖💖💖

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    1. Thank you, Dr. Stein. What a lovely thing to say…you’re right — princely, indeed. Appreciate you for your sweet comment, and — as always – for reading. 💕💕💕

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  6. Oh Vicki. I’m so sorry for what you’re going through at the moment. As others have said, I’m sure your letter will have meant so much to your cousin and his family. You wrote such beautiful sentiments. Hopefully you felt comforted by writing to him too, given the geographic distance between you, but you’ll be close in each other’s thoughts. Take care Vicki, xxx

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  7. Wow, I’m not sure where to begin. I’m so sorry for your cousin, his family and for you to have to face this challenge. He sounds like a wonderful man! I must add, so wonderful of you to write him to cherish and celebrate your close friendship. I’m sure it touched him more than you’ll ever know. So kind of you. What a beautiful letter and a beautiful post. I’m sitting here in tears. Of course, you’ve got my own wheels spinning. “…. 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 livesI hope this brings a smile.” So well said. I can relate and need to noodle on that some more. How did you guys get out? Why didn’t others? Finally, I hope this brings a smile to your face during this tough time. My first thought as I wiped my tears away from my face: “Darn it Vicky, you need to put a disclaimer at the top of your blog, “might cause tears.” I wasn’t ready. 🥲 🙂🙂🙂In any event, hang in there. Keeping your cousin in my thoughts and prayers.

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    1. Oh my. Brian — you are one special person! Thank you for bringing a smile to my face – despite the topic. A “might induce tears” disclaimer, you say? Well, right back at you — the man who posts such poignant pieces all the time. Truly – grateful for your readership and friendship. This afternoon I’m feeling warm all over — because blogging friends are among the most compassionate people I know. The comments have filled me with hope in such an unexpected — but very welcome – way. And… you and I have some parallel family story lines…one day we’ll chat about your good questions, prompted by the post. I doubt you’ll be surprised by the answers. 😉 Hugs to you, Brian — and thank you again. 💕

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  8. I’m so sorry for you and your impending loss as well as for his extended family. Your letter was so heartwarming. I’m sure it meant a lot to him. I remember my husband writing a letter to a dear friend who was in hospice telling him how much he was loved and how much his friendship meant My husband delivered the letter to the brother who lived around the corner from us because the friend wasn’t allowing visitors. The next day the letter was given back. It didn’t make it in time.

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    1. Elizabeth — I don’t know why, but your lovely comment got stuck in spam! Thank you so much for your kind words — means so much. ❤️❤️❤️

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  9. I’m sorry to read about this situation, but you’ve approached it in a a kind and beautiful way, demonstrating kinship through genetics as well as being a good person to remember this cousin as his health declines.

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  11. Einstein once said, “There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” It seems as if you and your dear cousin have enjoyed a few miracles a long your journeys of life. Thanks for sending that heartfelt letter to your cousin and for sharing parts of it with us!

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    1. Mary! You lift me up! I’d forgotten about that Einstein quote…how perfectly wonderful it is. Yes, yes…everything IS a miracle. Thank you for being such a dear blogging friend.
      Hugs! ❤️

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  12. What a beautiful post Vicki. Thank you for sharing a bit about the place your cousin holds in your life and heart with all of us. Often just letting someone know how you sincerely feel is enough during the times that really there is nothing else we can do. Hugs!

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    1. Big hugs back to you, Deb. I appreciate your kindness…and I think you’re right. As much as I wish there was more I could do, letting those we love know how much we care is important. Thank you so much. 💕💕💕

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  13. Wow wow wow – what a beautiful letter and post. I think when we feel helpless it’s a special invitation to lean in and pay attention. You have done such a beautiful job at both and I know he’s feeling your heart hug. If we could sing our loved ones from this life to the next, I’d be honored to be carried along by your tune. Love love love you and your huge heart! ❤ ❤ ❤

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    1. Thank you so much, Wynne. “When we feel helpless it’s a special invitation to lean in and pay attention.” Wow, wow, wow — back at you. I appreciate you — not just for the beautiful, empowering words you offer, but for the example you set about telling heart stories…with love and courage. xoxo 💕💕💕

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  14. It’s tough to know what to say when one of our loved ones has health challenges, but I think it’s better to do what you did—write from the heart and tell your cousin how much he means to you. The 9% that the two of you have in common makes for a special connection.

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  15. There are so many beautiful comments here, Vicki, I don’t think I can add anything more to what has already been said, except to tell you I am so glad you wrote to your cousin and told him how you feel. So many of us clam up at such times because we just don’t know what to say. I’m very glad you knew JUST what to say. And oh, I am sorry for what you’re going through… I’m sending you a warm and gentle hug this morning…xoxo 🙏💕

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    1. Thank you, Patti — your comment means so much. I hear you about being unsure – the tendency to clam up – you are right about that and that’s exactly what I was struggling with. Wanting to say/do something because being idle was too much. Thank you for the hug…I’m sending one back to you! 🥰

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  16. Bless your dear heart, Vicki. What a beautiful gesture. I have often been moved to do as you have done—to sit down and write a heartfelt missive to a dear one who is moving on It gives me joy and comfort to know that I am adding joy and comfort to another. Sometimes, years later, a family member will mention that they still have the letter and appreciate rereading the memories shared. Your love will live on, dear Vicki, perhaps in ways that you cannot even imagine. 💕🥰

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    1. Julia — thank you so much for that. You’ve read my heart perfectly…that’s exactly what I hope for…comfort now…possibly in the future as well…hoping that what I’ve shared will help everyone who loved him remember…and remember…and remember. Much love to you! 💕

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