My cousin Dennis just died. I didn’t really know him but I kind of felt like I did. I have over sixty cousins and his family moved to Toronto before I was born so we may have only been in the same room a half a dozen times. But his brother lived with us for a while. And I’ve been friends with some of his siblings in one way or another over the years.
His mother was a nun who married a priest. His mother was my mother’s sister and his father, the priest, was my father’s teacher. And then future brother-in-law. Dennis was a twin. I can’t imagine what it is like to lose your twin brother.
He was only a few years older than me. My heart goes out to his siblings. And while I didn’t really know Dennis in any substantial way, his grandparents were my grandparents. His uncles and aunts were my uncles and aunts. His cousins were my cousins. His mother’s stories were my mother’s stories. His Christmas tortiere was my Christmas tortiere. His DNA was my DNA.
I wish I’d known him. Rest in Peace, cousin.