Thursday, July 23, 2009

Remembering Uncle Ed


My Aunt Connie lost her husband of fifty-seven years this past week; my cousins lost their father, their grandfather, their great-grandfather.  Many in Old Town, Maine, lost their loyal friend.  When I think of Ed Sirois, I think of a gardener and a storyteller, a devoted family man blessed with a healthy balance of humility and humor.  Back when my brother, sister, and I were kids, weekend visits to Old Town were about afternoons spent around the table, eating the profoundly good food made by Aunt Connie and Memere, playing cribbage, and listening to gifted storytellers.  Yesterday, as we gathered after Uncle Ed's funeral back in Aunt Connie's kitchen, my cousin Peter told stories about the old days, and I almost felt like they were there, the ones we've lost, Memere & Pepere, Aunt Annette, my father, and now Uncle Ed.  After we left, my mum remarked that we would have had a different conversation if we'd been in the living room, and she was right.  It was in the kitchen, around the table's circle, with chairs and stools pulled up, and watermelon that Pam had brought passed from hand to hand, that we talked about the old days.  
As stories are swapped around a table, talk, like food, becomes a sort of nourishment in itself.  As Aunt Connie says, we all have memories, some good some bad, but we share them.  And this, I believe, is what binds us.  This is what gives us strength.   
 

12 comments:

  1. Oh. I offer my condolences, but also my appreciation to your mother. It would've been a different conversation in the living room. How beautiful & how observant.

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  2. It's so difficult to see older generations gone. But the stories remain. My condolences to you and your family.

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  3. hi gigi ~
    my heart goes to you and your family ... your words are full of love, warmth and pride of those so close to you here and hereafter ... you have spoken so eloquently i feel as if i know your uncle ed a bit and can imagine the kitchen conversation ... may you hold your memories close ...
    blessings,
    prairiegirl

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  4. Dearest Gigi,

    I'm sorry for your loss and the empty seat that is left around the family table. Your words were so poignant and struck such a cord with me. Memories are all we have, and they are what make us.

    Thinking of you and your family,
    Melissa

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  5. Beautifully put dear Gigi.

    So sorry to hear of your families loss.

    What memories you have and so lovely that you could all as you say, nourish each other on that day.

    love and hugs DJ

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  6. I'm sorry for your loss, Gigi. Thank you for sharing with us your beautiful words. :) Love you.


    And...I'll see you today:) and we will, I'm sure, share stories and food.
    xo

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  7. Such a beautiful post, Gigi... I am so sorry for the loss...Keeping our loved ones alive in our hearts, and they never leave us. :o) Thank you for sharing your thoughts and stories...Sending you a big ((HUGS))

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  8. Beautiful post, and tribute to your Uncle. My heart goes out to you and your family. peace & blessings, GG

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  9. Kitchen conversations are indeed another kind of nourishment...

    I'm sorry for your family's loss...this is a beautiful tribute to an obviously loved family member.

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  10. Thanks so much, everyone, for your beautiful thoughts and wishes.
    xo Gigi

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  11. Dear Gigi, My heartfelt condolences. I lost my father 5 years ago and not one day passes that I don't remember him.

    xxx Nora

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  12. Ed will be missed, I feel that. I am so sorry for your loss. My prayers to you and your family.
    xo

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