Cousin Love

There is no love like that of a cousin. I call it “cousin love.” Maybe you have had the privilege of knowing this kind of love, the kind that is cultivated over time, creating an ever-lasting bond.

I have been blessed with thirty cousins in total: sixteen on my mother’s side and fourteen on my father’s side. Our ages span four decades, with my siblings and I grouped at the younger end of the pack.

My mind can recall sitting in the back of the church at my aunt’s funeral, over twenty-five years ago, surprised at the number of bald (family trait), and gray-haired people in the pews in front of me. As I sat there, staring at the backs of their heads, my heart swelled with love for each and every one of them, my cousins. What is it that connects us so?

The most obvious answer is DNA. The same chromosomes that are attached to my helix are attached to theirs. Evidence of this can be seen in the raised left eyebrow gene, handed down on my mother’s side. My cousin and I had a good laugh as we looked at a photo of our mutual uncle, all three of us with our left eyebrow permanently raised.

Also, we share the same lineage, and can trace the route of our bloodline back through generations. Society is becoming increasingly curious about ancestry, mapping out family trees. This seems to create a sense of belonging, a foundation that explains who we are today.

Another reason cousin love is strong is nurturing. Each summer my parents would host a “To-Do” at our house. The real meaning of this title was never clearly explained. We just knew it meant in July we would have a party with my mother’s side of the family, and in August we would repeat it with my dad’s side. You know, a To-Do.

Many years have passed, and I wonder if my parents really grasped the importance of these gatherings. They were day-long affairs that included swimming, yard games (horseshoes was a favorite, I can still hear the sound of metal scraping metal), card games, lively conversations in both english and french, and smoke signals from the grill, carrying the scent of hamburgers, hot dogs and barbecue chicken.

We have only a few photos of these gatherings, but they are not necessary for me to remember the wonderful times we had. My mind can play short videos, reels, and I am right back there. I push play and:

- My older cousin brought his new girlfriend (now his wife of fifty years), and I can still see the blanket billowing in the breeze as he carefully spread it on the grass for her.

- One year, my parents, sick of raking a million oak leaves every season, decided to cut down a lot of trees, leaving the stumps behind. Our younger, very energetic cousin went into the back yard and kept running from stump to stump, standing on each one, proclaiming himself king of the stumps.

- Years before Jaws came out, one cousin had us young ones all squealing and swimming into each other in the pool, water splashing over the sides in buckets. He was a shark, and a very convincing one at that.

My youngest cousin recently turned fifty, and had an intimate party in a rustic barn. It was a thrill to look around and see my cousins scattered about the room. When I look at them, I see our ancestry. I can see an aunt’s smile, an uncle’s height, our grandfather’s eyes, and characteristics of my own parents. They are a product of the many generations who came before them, and I share that same heritage.

I sat with the stump king and his lovely wife, and heard stories of their daughter attending college in Scotland. Their son was there and he told me he is graduated from college and working in the finance industry. Looking at his face as he spoke, I was transported thirty years earlier, to when I saw that same young face on his father.

The passage of time doesn’t seem to affect cousin love. I have six cousins that live in Nova Scotia, and we have seen each other less than a dozen times over our lives. And yet, when we see each other, we are connected. The sound of a puzzle piece being clicked into place seems audible, and we are complete. We are a part of the picture of our family; siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents and so on, all gathered together, wearing expressions of pure joy on our faces (some with a raised left eyebrow).

Which brings me to my heavenly family and my relationship with God. Sometimes I find it hard to connect with God because He is so big. It is difficult to wrap my head around his absolute love for me. It is something I cannot touch or see, and it can be hard to feel. It is elusive.

But then I am reminded that I have His DNA, we are of the same bloodline. My traits are His traits. My ancestry can be traced all the way back to Him. He is the  foundation, and my life is built on Him. Spending time with God nurtures my relationship with Him and our love grows.

Hmm. DNA, bloodline, nurturing? Sounds a lot like cousin love, and that I understand. I have felt the touch of cousin love. I have seen cousin love looking back at me. It is tangible. Although it is nothing even close to the love God has for me, cousin love helps me better understand, and feel, God’s all-encompassing, unending love. And, it is comforting to know that no matter how much time has passed, God and I can always pick up where we left off.