A year ago today, something terrible happened. I got a call from my oldest Goddaughter and the news wasn’t good. I’ve gotten calls like this before, with life-altering bad news that takes your breath away. My cousin – wait – no – my big sister-of-the-heart had died suddenly of a probable heart attack. I wrote most of the rest of this post about a week after that call.

Quynn and I were initially freaking out. It took a few minutes to calm each other down and breathe, and to simply decide what needed to happen was flights to PA had to be booked. This task was made somewhat more urgent, as it was the weekend before Thanksgiving and airplanes were bound to be more full (and expensive) than usual. Emotions would have to wait for now.

I did manage to make a couple of calls to family, and then after a few failed attempts to find a reasonably priced flight, I headed over to my friend Cori’s place. She travels a lot and I was hoping she would be able to work her magic. Turned out to be a good decision, as she found some great flights and great prices, she even gifted me some air miles. Mere words are inadequate to describe my gratefulness.

Getting back to the title of this post – “Who is Cindy?” Might seem odd, now that you know she has passed, that I still chose to say “is” instead of using the past tense “was,” but Cindy “is” bigger than life, and it is my belief that her spirit carries on, like all the loved ones who’ve gone before her – and therefore on she still is with us – albeit a different level. Cindy, in life, was a loving, caring, generous, funny, creative soul. She was fiercely loyal. She loved unconditionally. She gave of herself freely and most often behind the scenes without being asked. She was the best of the best.

When people ask who she is to me – “what is our family relationship?” – the answer is not a simple one. Her mother, Adrienne, married my Great-Uncle Charlie. It was a second marriage for them both, so there is no blood relation at all. I would generally say “cousin” to keep the answer simpler, because “first cousin, once removed, by marriage” or “step-first cousin, once removed” is just too much information in most situations. Makes it sound like, “are you actually related at all?” Those official-sounding descriptors don’t really serve any purpose at the end of the day though, as they don’t come close to telling you how much she meant to me.

Cindy came into my life when I was about 9 years old. My Uncle Charlie had started dating Cindy’s mother, Adrienne. Cindy became a babysitter for my brother, sister and I. I, of course, didn’t believe I needed a babysitter. In truth, I probably didn’t, but my brother (7), and sister (2), definitely did, and I was way too young to be responsible for them.

It was about 2 years later, the summer before I started 6th grade when our relationship took a turn. I was 11 and Cindy, who was about to start her senior year of high school, was 17. The year was 1976, the bicentennial of our country. I remember it clearly, my grandparents and Uncle Charlie, who lived next door to one another, had a HUGE 4th of July family picnic. Their homes were on the shore of the Raritan Bay, the perfect spot for viewing fireworks all across the bay.

At that picnic, Cindy, in what can only be described now as highly unusual, asked me if I’d like to go to the mall with her tomorrow. Hello?!? What 11 year old would turn that down? An opportunity to hang out with a much older teenager without an adult? I jumped at the opportunity without hesitation.

Over the course of the next several years, our relationship settled into little sister/big sister. She became my first confidante, answering all my questions about boys – I was a little boy-crazy back in those days. Since I was the oldest of my siblings – it was exciting to me to have someone to fill the shoes of the big sister in my life. I intuitively knew I needed that, desperately.

We would talk about EVERYTHING – boys, of course, but also family stuff. I was always taught not to “air dirty laundry” outside the family – but Cindy was family! She understood all the dynamics of what was going on in my family, which made it easy for me.

At that time, during my turbulent teenage years, there was a lot of conflict in my house. A lot of arguing. When that arguing and conflict became too much for me, and I needed to escape, both literally and figuratively, Cindy was always there for me, without fail. I would head to the local mom and pop grocer, Burlews, which was the closest payphone. I’d drop a dime and dial Cindy’s number and if she answered, she would drop whatever she was doing to come to pick me up. Keep in mind, I was a mouthy, high-maintenance, 6 1/2 years her junior brat. She didn’t HAVE to come to get me. She didn’t have to rescue me from the latest installment of drama, but she did. Over and over and over again.

She’d let me stay at her place, a small mobile home two towns over, as long as I needed to. If I had school, she’d drop me off; if it was a weekend, I’d get to hang out. Sometimes her friends would come over. Sometimes we sit up watching chick-flicks or horror movies on late-night TV. She introduced me to movies such as Love Story, Beaches, The Exorcist and The Omen.

I recently told Quynn about how I helped Cindy get ready for her first date with Tommy, her Dad. If memory serves me right, and it usually does, was the spring of 1981, I was 16. (Interesting side fact: Bill and I had already been dating almost a year!) They had met through mutual friends, and had seen each other a few times socially with a group, but this was their first official date. I had spent the night, and the whole day we cleaned her little house and cooked dinner. She had bought a new dress, and while her hair was still wet from her shower, I French braided a ribbon into it. I will never forget her excitement as she said to me “I just want you to know – this is the man I’m going to marry!” She quick ran me home before he arrived.

They were living together within 4 months and married the following summer. They moved about an hour south. You may think we wouldn’t stay as close after all that, but really, it strengthened our relationship. Thankfully, Bill and I both got our driver licenses, and could easily make the drive to see them. It became a routine for us, on weekends when we weren’t working, we’d drive down and spend the night. Tommy would cook bbq chicken, and as long as we were staying over, they’d let us have a beer or glass of wine. We’d play cards or other games or watch movies, eating air-popped popcorn.

When Cindy got pregnant about a year later, they decided to move back closer to family. Tommy’s family was in Freehold so that’s where they settled.

When Quynn finally arrived, in September of 1984, I was so happy! She was a beautiful baby! I spoiled her rotten!

That December, in 1984, Bill and I got engaged and began planning our wedding. Cindy was a huge part of that. I wanted Quynn to be my second flower girl, (Bills niece, Angela, would be the other) but Cindy said she was too young, as she would only be two weeks past her first birthday. She wanted to enjoy the wedding being a bridesmaid without having to worry about the baby, so Tommy stayed home with her.

When Bill & I bought our house in Toms River, Cindy & Tommy would come down and bring Quynn. Tommy, who worked as a professional painter, helped Bill paint the inside of our home, bringing the necessary scaffolding to reach the top of the 17-foot high living room ceiling.

Cindy, of course, was one of the first on the scene after Michelle was born. When it was time for Billy to be born, 18 months later, she drove down to stay with Michelle when we went to the hospital.

As the years passed, our relationship remained close. While we didn’t always see each other all the time, especially after Bill & I moved our family to KY, and she and Quynn moved to CO, we were on the phone at least weekly. We were always aware of what was going on in each other’s lives. We were always reaching out for advice, or just to vent about the latest issues, or to share the latest exciting news.

Cindy came to stay with us for a while when we lived in PA. Michelle and Billy were thrilled to have Aunt Cindy with us, as she’d let them get away with things we didn’t and told them stories from yesteryear that I probably would have waited until they were older for.

When Bill & I told Cindy we were selling our house and transitioning to our full-time RVing lifestyle, no one was happier for us, in spite of knowing that meant we wouldn’t see each other as often anymore. She would listen to me drone on about each stage of my research, and when visiting would look at all my pictures, etc. She made one request of me, which I happily agreed to: could we send her an old-fashioned postcard from each place we visit? She’d get so excited and would call to tell me as each one arrived. Instead of her former usual “How are you?” the new first question became “Where are you?” She loved telling her friends about our travels, so proud of us for living our dream. She was so happy when we drove our big rig up and stayed in her yard!

I guess the bottom line is we were family – way more than first cousins once removed, by marriage, implies. When Michelle and I were talking about it, she mentioned that Derek couldn’t get bereavement time for a “cousin”; that didn’t seem fair. Cindy was so much more than that label implies, but there isn’t a word for what Cindy was to us. Not an adequate one anyway.

To say I am sad right now is so not even close to how I’m feeling. Devastated, in shock, heartbroken, overwhelmed crushed – those words start to tip the iceberg of how I’m feeling. The worst part is I know it will be a long time until I don’t feel these things; it will take a long time until I stop reaching for the phone to call and share my latest news and catch up on what she’s doing. It will take a long time for me to not be expecting the phone to ring either too early or too late because she’s forgotten what time zone I’m in. I will call and check-in with Tommy, but he’s not my chatty Kathy and will not stay on the phone long. I do think I will still send him postcards though, as I know he also enjoyed getting them. They may be even more important for him now.

Quynn and I have already agreed to keep in better touch. A lot of our keeping up with one another was through Cindy, so we will have to work on that ourselves now, and that will be a good thing, even though the reason sucks.

I can almost see the reunion now – my Nani & Poppy, Adrienne & Uncle Charlie, Andrew, and others, sitting around “chewing the fat” as they’d say, playing cards or going crabbing. Watching fireworks from the sea wall behind the houses. While it is a terrible time for those of us left behind, there is a party happening on the other side

Now you know just a little bit about my “cousin” Cindy. Her passing from this life will make for many difficult times in the future, but I know in my heart she would say “it’s ok Kelly.” I will be there more for Quynn now, as Cindy and I promised each other years ago, whoever went first would take care of the other kid(s). She doesn’t need to call each week to ask “where are you?” instead will just watch over us.

It was one year ago today, November 16, that Cindy left this world. I still sometimes reach for my phone to call. When Freya was born I was sad to not be able to share that with her. She was almost as excited as I was to learn Michelle was pregnant. I still send Tommy postcards. Quynn and I are still working on keeping in touch more regularly. Next summer we hope to have a memorial for Cindy, to celebrate her life and all that she did for each of us. 

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