Cousins

For a long time when we were growing up, cousins were a big part of our lives. Lots of cousins. They and our brothers and sisters were our friends. They were the ones we got in trouble with, did crazy things like riding a bike with no brakes down a hill with and laughed with.

The last time I saw Willie was at my cousin Johnny's funeral. I didn't remember Johnny that well. The last time I had seen him, he was just a little boy. Somewhere along the way, my parents quit taking the annual trips to Fort Worth, so we had lost touch.

I also left home when I was 17 to go live in Montana -- far away from family. My fault then that I lost touch.

I guess it's not until you get older that you realize how much family means. How much it defines who you are.

I'm going to see Willie today. I'm going to his funeral.

I wish that I had taken time to drive the 3 1/2 hours to Ft. Worth, actually just a little further to Stephenville, to see Willie and listen to he and his wife, Yo Yo, as they laughed and talked. I wish that I had gotten together with Yo Yo and planned a family reunion like we talked about at the last funeral.

Willie would have liked that. He liked to laugh and talk. He missed us too, I know, because he went out of his way to go to visit my parents in the Texas panhandle.

We'll all miss Willie.