August 10, 2015
The boat is called Wayfinder. I sailed on it a week ago yesterday in the waters off Howth in Ireland. It was a perfect Irish day – calm but steady winds, lovely sunshine, clouds darting in and out over the water. A sailboat race was taking place off to the port side of the Wayfinder – a lovely setting leading to an evening of family celebration. I was in Ireland to join with my first cousins, their children and spouses for an evening of celebration of the Geaney clan.
There is something wonderfully refreshing about the joy of being together as family even though we see each other only every few years all together in one room. We began the evening with a home Mass, calling on the Lord to hear our prayers for those who had died recently and also for all those whom we had known as we grew up – our mothers and fathers, aunts and uncles who together had produced an amazing group of children and had been part of a huge family – my Dad was one of 18 children, 12 of whom lived to be adults.
So there was much to share, and share we did, catching up with the children who had married, now producing their own children; with the aches and pains of aging; lingering on the family stories that we had heard over the years; comparing, contrasting, wondering who would tell some of the stories when we were the ghosts of ages past.
All of it centered around a meal at the Howth Yacht Club in a delightful room that seemed to have been measured just to the needs of our family. There was a constant buzz during and after the meal of folks catching up, debating the points of family lore – just how many children were in the Julia and Patrick Geaney brood – was it 16, long defended by the Dublin cousins or 18 as I had been told by my Dad? Whenever we have such family reunions or gatherings, I’m always delighted by how easily we all share – not just the happy things, but some of the tragedies that cause us to think again about the significance of a life well lived. I am among the oldest of the first cousin clan, and yet we have lost many of my younger cousins to the joy of the Resurrection. While in my father’s generation most of my aunts and uncles died of heart related diseases, our generation have mostly died of cancer. Viewing the pictures of past gatherings we are often reminded of those of whom we now have only fond memories.
Family reunions are an important way to reconnect, to realize that time is swiftly passing and that the Lord is gently guiding us to sometimes different paths than we ever would have imagined. In our generation we celebrate those who have retired, marvel at those who have not, and welcome those who it seems only a short time ago to be children and are now parents themselves. Enjoying the reunion as much as I did, I was reminded of the words of the Psalmist: “Give thanks to the Lord for he is good: for his love endures forever.” (Psalm 118)