Before it is too late

I have an early childhood memory of my three male cousins coming to stay with us on the farm. I was probably six or seven at the time.  

My mother and her sister fell out soon after that visit and thus we did not see them again. I think my mother may have seen her sister once before she died but that was the last that I saw of any of these cousins.

Last year, the eldest tracked me down and we have been having regular phone catch-ups since. It has been interesting hearing Peter's recollections of his childhood. He spent much more time with our grandparents than I did. I think I probably saw them once every couple of years or even less, whereas Peter lived closer and saw them regularly. I notice Peter has a sharp memory and had obviously had a wonderful ability to observe detail, as he is able to make some astute assessments from his childhood observations.

Peter has his own take on our mothers' fall-out too, different to the one I'd heard from my mother, but really, both of the versions didn't seem enough reason not to speak to each other (bar once) for the rest of their lives.

I enjoy talking to Peter. Although he has been quite unwell, having suffered a stroke a number of years ago, and more recently, having a pacemaker fitted, he is incredibly articulate. I am looking forward to meeting him again as he is thinking of making the journey from his South Island home to Northland sometime in the future, as that is where his parents are buried.

Having this contact with Peter had made me keen to catch up with his other brother, Murray, too. The third brother had already passed away. Then last night, I received a passed-on message from my brother, telling him that Murray had passed away last Saturday. I feel saddened that I will never get to catch up with him. I see he was 59 so he would only have been a baby when the family came to stay all those years ago. 

So once again, I am left with regrets that I hadn't got to know someone a little better before they died. Murray was described by his niece in the email I received, as being incredibly intelligent and having a big heart. According to my brother, he used to teach school kids the ancient Maori navigation techniques on their long-distance voyages. Murray and his brother's father was Maori, while Peter was European, having been born in 1955 when his mother was a single woman. That must have been unusual in its day, for a woman to keep her child who was conceived out of wedlock and it is something I admire my grandparents for. So many families would have forced their daughter to give her child up for adoption. Peter has a lot of love for the man who took him as his own and raised him. My memories of my uncle, like those of my cousins, are vague. I am wishing I had made the effort to get in touch with all four of these men sooner.

Not doing so is definitely my loss.