A family wedding in Marblehead, Massachusetts last weekend gave us a perfect excuse to stop unpacking boxes. It was also the first time my cousins had a chance to get together since the death of my Aunt Ruth (mother of three of them and grandmother of the bride) died two years ago at 104, and there was a lot of catching up to do.
The wedding ceremony was held in a park overlooking Marblehead’s sailboat-filled harbor and it was beautiful, in spite of a steady rainfall.
At dinner, the toasts to the bride and groom were funny (and blessedly short). The band played songs that even I could recognize.
I sat next to my cousin Ken, a “retired” physician who at seventy-eight still does grand rounds and serves on the admissions committee of his medical school. Toward the end of the evening when he had moved his seat and was sitting across the table, I caught him staring at me.
“You look a lot like your mother,” he said. “She was beautiful.”
I love my family.