a reconciliation of sorts between first cousins

A few months ago, I lost two aunts, one the younger sister of my mother, the other the older sister. They both died within 6 days of each other. The younger aunt divided her assets between my cousin and me. It was Alan, my cousin, who called me while I was on a trip to Kansas City to inform me of our aunt's passing. (Shockingly, he did not call me when his own mother died. I found this out on my own, upon my return to Salt Lake as I looked in the paper for my younger aunt's obituary)

Here's where it gets a little more interesting: Alan's father was my father's older brother. And, as mentioned, Alan's mother was my mother's older sister. In other words, two brothers married two sisters and both married couples had only one son apiece, born within 8 months of one another. I'm the older cousin.

You'd think we'd be very close and as children, we saw each other frequently and spent a lot of time together. Both sets of parents would borrow the other cousin to bring along on family trips, many of which I remember fondly. I got the better end of the deal since Alan's parents were far more lucrative than mine. And we WERE relatively close. At some point though things changed. I attribute this to our mothers playing us against each other in such a way as to instill competitiveness or resentment. "Well, you know, Alan cleans up his room every day." or "Stephen won an award in his math class." (Actually, I'm not sure what really happened. I think we just got older and developed our own sets of friends from our respective schools, but I do think a certain amount of competitiveness existed.)

But again, I digress. Our aunt charged Alan as executor of her will. I had been estranged from that aunt for a number of years, just as I was estranged from Alan's mother and Alan himself (although not as consciously as with my aunts). As a result of our shared estate, I have been more in contact with my cousin in the last few weeks than I have been since elementary school.

I kind of like it. He's really my only living relative (other than my wife and daughter of course). He calls at least once or twice a week to discuss matters of our aunt's estate. The last time he called, I happened to remember it was his birthday that day and wished him a happy birthday. He shrugged it off but I was rather proud of myself for remembering. I suspect sometimes he likes the contact too although he never betrays this sentiment during our conversations. At least we have an excuse to talk to each other. Interestingly, I've noticed subtle cues about our similarities as we talk.

For instance, I've gleaned over the years that Alan has many friends. He is very loyal and devoted to them. I always sought friendship. I thought I had many friends, but the truth of the matter is that many have moved to distant locations and really, I can count on one hand the people I can now truly classify as friends. Alan, however, has a much larger contingent. (There's my innate competitiveness kicking in again!) In any event, I believe that as only children we were highly motivated to connect with others to a larger extent than people who were raised with siblings.

Also, he's a complainer. I think it's very amusing. His mother was a complainer. My mother was a complainer. I'm a complainer. I'm gaining some insights into my own character as I observe him and the things that bother him or please him. His responses are similar to mine. Through all of the years, both of us remain products of our upbringing, which after all, is not all that different. His father was my father's brother. His mother was my mother's sister. We share DNA in a way most cousins don't. And, as mentioned earlier, we are the only family we have left.

My wife has suggested I invite Alan to have lunch with me once in a while. I'm not sure either of us are really ready for that, but I haven't discounted it totally. I'm not sure what direction our conversations would take without the necessary interactions regarding the execution of the estate, but I'm sure it would be awkward. It's been so many years.

So, for the time being, I await his next call and the opportunity to talk for a brief moment even if it is only to decide what to do with the studded snow tires in storage.