Dianna

Dear Ones,

Sorry to disappear. I’ve been sad. The kind of sadness that creates chaos and commotion. But there’s no easy way to explain, so just settle in and be patient with me.

My friend died. Well, not my friend, really. My cousin. No, that’s not right either. My brother’s mother-in-law.

Well, here. I’ll explain.

Before she married my dad, my mom’s young first husband was killed on a battlefield by an exploding grenade. When a soldier dies, you hold his family close. The soldier’s niece, Dianna, was my mom’s favorite. Mom loved the curly-haired farm girl with the rosy apple cheeks. Dianna loved her Aunt Dorothy with the adoration of a star-struck child.

When my dad popped into the picture years later, he understood. My brother and I learned to love the fresh air and sunshine of their country farm and they learned to love our glittering, big-city east coast life. We were different but the same, and grew up as cousins, knowing we weren’t. Not really. But we knew we were family.

The generations were off kilter – my parents married un-fashionably late in life and had children even later. The farm where Dianna grew up seemed to encourage young marriages and plentiful babies. Dianna’s marriage (with my then six-year-old brother by her side, wide-eyed and nervous as he held the wedding rings in his sweaty fist) expanded the family with three beautiful daughters born in quick succession. Only 5 years separated the oldest of Dianna’s children from her Aunt Dorothy’s youngest.

As the years flickered past, Dorothy and Dianna dreamed – as mothers do – of how tidy it would be if Dianna’s oldest child, Tammy, married Dorothy’s youngest child, Stephen. A silly dream. Children rarely behave as you want them to.

Dianna and her girls came east, crying at the church as my brother married his high school sweetheart. But sometimes sweethearts can’t make things work, even when there’s a beloved baby between them. My brother’s marriage shattered. Not long after, my mom swiftly died after acute leukemia reared its ugly head. (Maybe we’ll talk about that later. For now just understand that it was hard. Still is.) And so Stephen and I flew west to the farm, seeking the shelter of the long-loved smiles of our farm family. I didn’t stay long – had other comforts waiting for me in the east. But my brother stayed, coddled and healed by the familiar warmth. “I’d like to introduce you to my cousin, Steve,” Tammy used to say. It didn’t take long for that to change to, “I’d like to introduce you to Steve.” A few months later, “I’d like to introduce you to my boyfriend, Steve” was followed by Tammy’s bubbling giggle and shy smile.

Stephen and Tammy were married a few years later, with Stephen’s daughter, Stephanie, by his side, wide-eyed and nervous as she held the wedding rings in her sweaty fist. In the length of time is takes to say “I Do,” Dianna changed from “cousin” to mother-in-law.

From on top of her heavenly cloud, Mom kept orchestrating the lives of the children she loved. Later I’m sure she must have cheered as her family grew larger with the birth of Stephen and Tammy’s sons. They’re growing strong and true, basking in sunshine and hay.

Dianna died 2 weeks ago.

Too young to leave. Only 10 years older than I am. Diagnosed with cancer on Sunday and dead on Thursday. Death is a dagger left in the hearts of those left behind.

“Why did she have to go?” we cried on the shores as Dianna sailed away. I’m hopeful that Mom was on a far away shore crying, “Yay! Here she comes!”

Happy Easter.