My Cousin Deena

 

I don’t recall the subject matter or who spoke. The sacrament meeting was ordinary in every way except for a new sister who just moved into the ward.  She was close to our age.  Donna and I approached her after the meeting, mostly to welcome her, but also to let her know we were related. We knew we were related because of a brief conversation with her adult son some weeks prior. Upon hearing the Fuller name, he indicated his family tree included some Fullers from Pine, Az.  There was no doubt we were related, but I assumed distantly.

Deena Widmann was recently widowed.  After a long and agonizing illness, her eternal companion passed.  Other challenges included being the care giver of her dementia-laiden mother-in-law, who had also died recently. She had a son on the autistic spectrum. Her life had been challenging.

“I come through Harry James Fuller,” she offered.  I didn’t remember that name in my family tree.  Nonetheless, I felt compelled to know the relationship.  On that Sunday during second-hour, the lesson fell on deaf ears as I engaged Family Search on my phone.  Suddenly it dawned on me.  My Uncle Jim’s proper name was Harry James.

I was never close to my dad’s side of the family.  This in part was due to my dad being an alcoholic and my mom divorcing him when I was young.  In addition, I was the youngest of 33 grandchildren. Most of my cousins were twenty-ish years older than I.  I never really knew these people.  They were essentially a generation removed. 

I only had one memory of my Uncle Jim, that being when I was an adult.  While in the temple, a worker saw my name and asked, “Who is your grandfather?”  Since my grandfather passed years before I was born, I had to think a moment.  When I answered, "Harry", this brother shook my hand.  “Hi. I’m your Uncle Jim.”  Immediately after, I was off to catch a session.  If I saw Uncle Jim again, I don’t recall.

After the block on that fateful Sunday, after I had figured out our relationship, Donna and I had the warmest conversation with Deena. Her mother was one of uncle Jim’s daughters, a cousin I never really knew.  If Deena and I met at a family reunion in decades past, neither of us remembered.  Though strangers, we had an instant connection.  We were family.

I marveled that only six months prior, I was living thousands of miles away in Pennsylvania.  Deena was living in Texas. We both experienced divine urgings to relocate.   After decades of living in other states, the Lord brought both of us “home” to Arizona. We now live only a half mile apart. Some would claim it a simple coincidence, but we knew it was a tender mercy of the Lord.

Eight months have come and gone since our initial meeting.  Deena is now not only a cousin, but a dear friend to both Donna and I.  Through Deena, I’ve been introduced to other cousins, attended a family reunion, attended a funeral, and gotten acquainted with family members I didn’t know previously. She has been a true blessing.  I like to think that Donna and I have blessed her life as well, as she adjusts to the loss of her spouse and a cross-country move.

Too often Donna and I lament the loss of our Pennsylvania lives.  We miss the rain, the rich forests, and grass that grows thick and green everywhere.  We miss dear friends and neighbors.  We miss cooler temperatures.  We miss our beautiful home.  But then we remind ourselves that we're in Payson, Arizona at the Lord's urgings.  He has his reasons.  One of those is His daughter, one of my cousins named Deena.