The Middle

I grew up in an Italian family. Well, ok, I didn't.  Limbacher is hardly Italian.  But I grew up WITH an Italian family - and I am sticking to it. 

In third grade, I met my sister.  As an only child, I got family and siblings from many different sources - cousins, friends, sorority sisters. A new girl, Robyn, had just moved to town and I invited her over.  Her mom dropped her off. To this day, her mom tells us how crazy she thought it was that she dropped her daughter off to someone she did not know at all - we could have been axe-murderers.

Our friendship started in third grade and has continued to this day.  She would hate to admit it - but we are turning forty this year.  She says she is not - that she stayed back - she is only thirty nine.  I say her math is still off but she did have me laughing a lot.

Our moms became sisters, too. Through the ups and downs that life has thrown to all of us, our friendships have endured. We now watch our kids start their friendship.  We laugh at the same stories over and over.  I do not care how many times I hear the "I am from the state of Cape Cod" story or the "I could never eat 8 slices of pizza - cut it in 6 slices" story - I still laugh.

I thought it was the coolest thing to have a cousin Vinny.  I could never get enough of the arguing around the dinner table.  I thought the commotion was perfect.  I loved being in the middle of it all.  My Italian family was larger than life.

This week, we said good bye to the matriarch of the family.  A glorious woman who lived to be almost 102 years.  She was strong in her heart and soul - and she loved her family more than anything, It is evident. It carries on.

We gathered all together to celebrate her life. So much in all of our lives has changed. The kids have grown up. Babies have been born. Kids are now teenagers.  Some marriages have made it - some have not. But despite it all, we all gathered together. It was like old times - but now - clearly new times.

Even though I wish there was a different reason for being there, I feel blessed.  Blessed to be a part of this family. Blessed that my mom and I have been included in their moments and their lives.  I hope that they know how much they all mean to me. Though I would never trade all that I have and all that my family means, I know that I do not need to. I am blessed to have both.

So as I sit here and remember the past few days, I cry a little. Happy and sad cry. Wish things didn't change cry. Happy that they do cry. I think about how many moments in her 102 years that Bobbie must have been happy to be with the family laughing, loving, and just being together. How amidst all of the changes, the ties that bind are still strong.  That being in the middle of it is indeed perfect.