Life goes on March 4, 2012

 

 

Big Pete's wealth as it turned out was not so much in money as it was in family, something I saw over and over again, but never so much as during his funeral. Not only did he have a clutch of loved ones to see him off in the end, but also to give comfort to each other so that no single person had to bear the brunt of his passing.

Part of the idea of family is exactly that, to build a foundation for that moment when you have to leave this mortal coil.

Ted saw a similar kind of support, but when I saw the cluster of family around Big Pete's grave, saw the arms around each other, saw the faces and the concern for each other, I understand for the first time how wealthy a man Pete really was.

I keep thinking of the surmon at the funeral, about the blind man who came up to Christ and asked to have his sight restored, and how Christ asked "Do you believe in me?" and that after some thought, the blind man said, "Yes, but forgive me my disbelief."

Pete believed, and he had plenty of miracles in his life to help support that belief, moments in time when he could have dispared, but chose not to.

Those who envied Big Pete his wealth --family and financial -- had not walked in his shoes, so failed to understand that his was not an easy life, even though it seemed to be a happy one.

Injuries, failed schemes were only part of his burden. To have fallen for Alice as he had, to loved her as much as he did, and then to lose her at a young age, must have been one of the greatest burdens of his life. then, to have to continue on, to continue to raise his kids, and to make them into the incrediable human beings they ended up being, took a lot of courage and ability.

I remember when he remarried, and the new wife tried to edge out his old kids, and how they had a unit moved out, to take up residence at a place elsewhere in Fairfield, a unit so powerful I am still in awe, and one that continues today, as they support each other.

Pete soon joined them, realizing where his true roots were, and how he needed to help them more than he needed to fill the gap Alice's death had left.

I saw an aspect of this at the funteral and wake, too, where his kids and their siblings still  benefited from that loyalty, a lesson that they seemed to learn and keep in their hearts.

The sad part for us outsiders is that we can never share in that bonding. It is that group that will go on forever, breeding its own cure to this thing we all fear, a common bond of love that cannot be shared outside, because it is all about being who they are and what they are and how they were brought up.

I don't even know all the names of all the kids or who the names belong to that I do know, so out of touch am I with their lives.

And it's not something that you can get back into once you've lost it. Most of it ended with the death of Alice back in 1975, when the world changed and our familly slowly moved away from theirs, and as my family members fade away, theirs grows, even when they lose monumental people like Big Pete.

Little Peter, John, Lisa, Donna, all bear this same sense. Lisa is so much like Alice, it stuns me, and makes me realize just how powerful an influence Alice was, even in her genes.

So Friday, when I walked up from the grave site to visit my mother's grave, I felt more alone than I ever had, and this was part of the reason, I didn't go to the meal later. Our worlds had drifted so far apart that it was inappropriate to try and get a piece of something that is no longer mine.

Life goes on.

 

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