The Pollard Triplets

Yesterday was a very. full. day. I kissed F goodbye at 7:00 a.m., knowing I wouldn't see him again for weeks, ran back in with a latte for him, clutching my own americano, then hurled myself onto the highway. I was still on Spadina at 7:30, impatiently cursing the four enormous Chinese tour busses moving like whales to my tiny aggressive fighting fish, but then attacked the road. Being late for the funeral would have been Not. On, so I focused all of the energy in my body into driving fiercely and fully, fast but very focused and attentive. Pulled into the parking lot at Sacred Heart Church in Lasalle just before 10:30. This was a Feat.

First people I saw were my stepmom and youngest sister, then my dear cousin Matt, then, in the foyer to the church, A. She was weepy, and we held each other. She held onto me as I said goodbye to Grandma, crying and saying, "she always accepted us, she was always nice to me." This was true. She was a very accepting woman in some profound ways -- picky about things that related to *her*, but not about how other people lived their lives. Bloody independent. Fiercely determined. (These things I apparently come by honestly).

Being with A was so resonant in this family space. She stayed for the mass, and I could feel the shift from loving connection to a more guarded place as the hour beside each other wore on. But that was okay. We quietly provided entertainment for my cousin's two year old in front of us (A's sunglasses, my business cards), Laura matter of factly referring to A as "Auntie A" to Serene. Still family, of course, in this swirl of a clan that included all manner of exes as well as currents. Stef and I joked that the obit should have just said "survived by a giant unruly brood," and this captures it -- roles not so important.

I do love my clan. From the three aunts who fostered me into being in so many different ways to my cousins who are so in my heart to the impromptu queer caucus Jen, Stef and I found ourselves in. Jen has come into being the person she has been navigating since she was about 3, and this is so good to see. Em and I planning a road trip together because we don't spend any alone time. Petra whispering to me at the sign of peace "don't forget us, there's no one to hold us together." We hang together softly and tentatively, poky bits here and there, shaping each other more gently than my mother's family did.

It's all about belonging, seeing ourselves in our quiet roots, telling the stories. We went back to Grandma's afterwards and went through photo albums, drank some beer, ate leftovers. Looked for the easter eggs that were still in the rafters -- Em found one that said Tony 1982. The annual hunt my dad made. Heard the stories of my dad cramming all the kids into his van without telling anyone else and taking them for ice cream. My dad taking the giggle of girls for a walk on the train tracks in their easter dresses, bringing them back a bit shredded and grubby and overheated with adventure. My dad so missed in the leavening of the clan.

Looking at the pictures, we cooed about resemblances -- "look, this picture of Tony at 8 -- I never noticed before how much Raymond looks like him." "Is this Matt, Chris or Ray?" Mocking our foibles -- "which wedding was THIS, Aunt Susan?" Trying to trace the stories that wind us together. "What baby are you holding here, Mary Ann?"

Some of the stories are so peripheral they evaporate even as we look at the pictures. "I think that's one of the Pollard triplets," said Mary Ann about the mystery baby. I have no idea who the Pollards are, really, remember hearing the name, maybe neighbours, like the 1930s mom bathing her tiny baby (Dick, 5 weeks, it says on the back) in a bowl on a table, gone forever now, an erased extra in our central narrative, someone who shaped my grandmother at some point in her life. Recognizing that we're all like that, vivid in our present moments, eliding into an cypher in an album in an old lady's house as decades slide by.

It all makes me determined to continue to grab onto the present with fierce joy. I want to find a way to help make sure there that without the centre to our clan, we still stay connected. That I keep building the sense of family with A. That as I figure out what kind of a "we" there could be with F, it stays vivid and rooted and about delighting each other.

I left my grandmother's with her toaster as a memento (I love that she used it everyday), and an old pie plate and muffin tin for Melissa. I think she'll like those. My bag is full of photos to scan and build into our mythology about dad, our senses of self among the brood. Stef was worried it would feel like pillaging, but it didn't -- we were building stories together, respectfully talking about what kinds of mementos people would like to take. Using my new treo to take little videos of Issy dancing, Seb kung fu fighting, Em dancing when I bid her to. A swirl of an unruly brood, carrying ourselves forward, connected.