When I was a kid, we saw our cousins from the Yukon very infrequently. In fact, I've probably met my cousins only a handful of times. Three boys. Annoying. Boys. One was a year older than me (we shared a birthday - that's really all we had in common). The other two were just kids. You know, two years and more younger than me.
In 2001, my youngest cousin committed suicide in his trailer. Middle cousin travelled to youngest cousin's trailer, cleaned up the mess (my cousin shot himself), and made sure youngest was taken care of. I had never heard of anyone grieving in such a hands-on way. I know that I would not have had the fortitude to be of such service to my sibling and was intrigued by this cousin I didn't know and his service to his brother.
My uncle recently passed away and one of my middle cousin's first thoughts was to pull out the family book and email everyone that had an email address to let us know. Then he made his plans and travelled from the Yukon to BC for the funeral. Once he arrived in BC, he bought lumber, nails, and satin and built a coffin for my uncle. He put in a nail for each of my uncle's siblings. He took great care to build the coffin he had planned. He brought the coffin to the only undertaker in town and carefully helped the undertaker place his father in the coffin that he built with his own hands.
His service to his family in death and his grieving process astounds me. It was humbling to me that one could be so thoughtful in caring for his family. He's no longer the little kid. He is an extraordinary man. And we should all be so lucky to know someone like him.
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