Family divided

During the wake for Husband’s grandfather yesterday, I started chatting to the most lovely girl called Jackie. Jackie is married to one of Husband’s cousins. Husband only has two cousins – they’re twins.

I first met the twins, or the twinnies as they were known back then, when they were around seven. I was invited to Christmas lunch so I could be introduced to Husband’s clan.  It became apparent during the drive that Husband hadn’t bought Christmas gifts for anyone, so we detoured to the lone chemist that was open and scrounged what we could. The twins scored disposable cameras.

Years later they attended our wedding and had the female guests all aflutter, wondering who’d brought Princes William and Harry along. Being from the country the twins had a certain poise about them, a confidence in their movements, a gentlemanly way of speaking that suggested royalty – not to mention being clean cut and handsome.

They were in high demand on the dancefloor.

Fast -forward to one of the twins getting married last year to the lovely Jackie. Gorgeous ceremony. Fast-forward again to yesterday’s funeral. Incredibly moving ceremony that had us all in gales of tears, including my little ones (and not a tissue in my purse).

During chit-chat with Jackie afterwards it became clear she lives a mere 10 minutes from our house. And we have NEVER socially interacted. Not a cup of tea, not an afternoon drink on the deck, not a roast dinner.

I was appalled (at myself). I have insisted that it be rectified.

I will be sending prospective dates for Sunday lunches ASAP.

Families are funny sometimes. So incredibly close in many ways, yet total strangers in others.

And a funeral reminds you to pull your finger out. Hold them close while you can.