Today, we took full advantage of Stephen being a pilot to attend a memorial service in Maine in the midst of our scramble to move into the new house. Although we have no heat or hot water, we have access to a private plane - bizarre life! And luckily we had great weather - so we avoided a 14 hour round trip drive and wearing ourselves exhausted. We picked up my sister Andrea in Lawrence, Mass and headed up to Wiscasset, ME for the day. It was so important to me to be there, and Stephen didn't question it once, he deftly handled the arrangements and made it happen.
I haven't been up to this part of Maine since before I was a teenager, but I have very vivid memories of visiting my Aunt Eleanor and then-Uncle Crispin. In Woolwich, nestled in the fingers of the mid-Maine coast across the river from Bath, the air smells salty and clean and the sky seems just a little bit larger than in the rest of New England. We used to go up in the summer and enjoy the beaches and Maine's artsy vibe and fresh seafood.
When I was 10, my aunt and uncle split up. I remember being very sad for my cousin, Cabot, who was only 3, and of course for my aunt, but I also remember being kind of confused. What do you mean Crispin won't be my uncle any more? but he's always been my uncle! Distraught, I wrote him a letter and asked him what was going to happen. He sweetly wrote me back and said he promised to be my uncle as long as I wanted him to be. Fast forward ten years, and we reconnect - along with his new wife, Nancy - at Christmas in Massachusetts. In order to keep stability and family as central roles in Cabot's life, Crispin and his sister and respective partners were fixtures at Christmas with my extended family. We only started going once my parents relocated to New Hampshire, but I really enjoyed getting to re-know him as an adult and I sought out Nancy for her fun stories of international travel.
It was quite a shock when I got the call 5 days before Christmas that Crispin had collapsed and was unconscious in the hospital. He was just 60. It seemed that of course he would pull through. But having suffered a severe heart attack, he was without oxygen for too long, and his brain couldn't recover. On Dec 23rd, his life support was removed and he died peacefully.
What an odd experience memorials are. It's my 3rd one in 3 months. So much love and joy mixed in with so much sadness and emptiness. My whole family minus my grandmother (who was out of the country) was there to support Cabot and Eleanor (who remained a good friend to Crispin in the years after their separation), and also to say our own goodbyes. For my parents, it was the loss of a contemporary - someone they knew from their teenage years and early 20s. Someone they could remember as young and vital and full of adventure. For me, it was to pay my respects to a man who was always there - if sometimes in the background. Someone who always stood up for what he believed, even if it was unpopular. Someone who helped me first understand the beauty of the ocean (and who also cleaned my lunch up after I "tossed" it all over the deck of his boat). Someone who was so important to so many people I really care about. My empathy was on overdrive, and when his sister Liz and my cousin Cabot gave their speeches, it was evident that the one tissue that my mom had given me was not enough.
Cabot gave a stunning tribute to his dad - to the relationship of father and son. He has always been "my younger cousin" but in Maine, I saw him for the first time as the young man he truly is. Poised. Thoughtful. Articulate. And what an incredible writer! Just as Crispin's memory lives on with all of us, his legacy truly lives on with Cabot. I was so glad I could be there. I was glad to get to say a proper good bye...
Good bye, Uncle Crispin.
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