Many years ago, I renewed acquaintances with my aunt and cousin who were living in Detroit. It had been many many years since I had seen or talked to either one. My aunt’s biggest worry, I later found out, was that my cousins and I would still consider her my aunt. She and my uncle, my mother’s brother, had divorced after 35 years. The thought had never occurred to me-she was my aunt no matter what. She passed away in the late 1970’s. As for my uncle, he just seemed to have vanished. No one knew of his whereabouts and my cousin certainly wasn’t going to say anything positive about him. I had no idea where they were buried.
Over the years, my cousin Harry and I exchanged letters, birthday and Christmas cards, and phone calls. I also visited him several times over the years. This meant a great deal to me. I had formed a relationship with a branch of the family, and especially my cousin, who had, in many ways, been ridiculed for his mannerisms and lifestyle by my relatives in Thunder Bay. I became the only connection between Harry in Detroit and the family in Thunder Bay. There must be second cousins of his in the Detroit area but Harry never talked about them and always avoided any questions about his immediate family.
One day I made a call to Harry and learned that his partner of over 40 years had passed away. Both he and Sy had been in hospital for some reason and no one had told him of Sy’s death until after his release from hospital. Harry was obviously very distraught.
I continued to write and send letters even though I never received a reply, which was unusual. Any phone calls went unanswered. I assumed that Harry had read my letters and cards but was just too upset to reply. This went on for many years
About three years ago,I sent a letter addressed to ‘whomever’ at Harry’s address explaining who I was. A brief time later, I was camping along the St. Lawrence River, near Prescott, in the pouring rain, when my cell phone rang.
Fortunately, I had forwarded home calls to my cell, something I had never done before. It was a friend of Harry’s who had opened the letter I had sent to ‘ whomever’. He informed me that Sy’s passing had had a detrimental effect on Harry, that he had become quite ill and was showing signs of dementia. I now understood why my letters, cards and calls had gone unanswered.
I made a trip to Detroit to visit with the gentleman who had called me and he took me to see Harry. Harry was his jovial self but had no idea who I was. He thought maybe I was the actor Richard Chamberlain. His dementia had worsened and he had become incontinent. Although we went through some old family photos, the only ones he recognized were of his mother and former partner. He could not recall any of his relatives even by name.I visited him twice during that stay and promised to return. . I now know where his parent, my aunt and uncles are located.
On July 8, I learned that Harry had passed away in his sleep on July 3. He is 82. He will be buried alongside his mother and father in Prescott, Ontario, his mother’s birthplace. Why had I addressed a letter to ‘whomever’? Why had I bothered to forward calls during that particular camping trip? Why did I end up camping in Prescott? I promised to see you again Harry. I’ll be there.
