Cousin Courtney? Who Needs Her

Sometime I forget that my family members share my genetic makeup.  Like they very well may have the same anxieties, fear of disappointing others, constant need to apologize, the ability to get lost in every place and situation, and to make most situations as uncomfortable as possible, and I could go on, but I’m working on my self esteem so I will leave it there.  But all of these shared idiosyncracies possibly look different in another person. A kaleidoscope of mismatched psychosis, shaken up and spit out in different formulas with bit of life experience thrown in for good measure.

I didn’t really think about all of this of course as I prepared myself to be embraced by family over the last weekend. All I felt was an anxiety that caused heart palpitations, sweating, and a fear that I wouldn’t know what to say, or if I did say something it would be a vomit of inconsequential words, haphazardly formed, haphazardly spewed.  And that happens to me when I'm nervous. Like the time I met David Sedaris, the famous humorous writer, and as he was signing a copy of one of his books for me, he gave me a sweet compliment. "I like your shirt," he said. I could have smiled and politely thanked him for the compliment, but I didn't. Before my brain could catch up to my mouth I was telling him that the shirt was rented.  Confusion etched itself across his face as he looked me up and down. Can this girl not afford to buy her own clothes? Was a question I’m sure he was thinking, but of course didn’t say and I didn't provide any further explaination, but rather asked him instead how often he writes.  His confusion turned to one of mild annoyance as he told me that he wrote every day.  Of course he would write everyday, that's his job as a WRITER.  I spend most of my life trying to not be basic and when the opportunity strikes to impress someone I admire so much, the most basic of basic questions leaves my mouth without asking my permission, the audacity!!

So yes, past experience have told me that I can’t be trusted when left to my own devices.  Maybe if I had created a character before seeing Sedaris I wouldn’t get chills of embarrassment every time I think about what I said and his face when I said it.  Cool chic writer girl would only have ever said very cool chic writer like things if I had thought to create her before the book signing.  In that spirit I knew what I had to do this weekend.  I had to create a character to ensure that I would maintain a calm, be attractively collected, and very very poised.  Thus, Cousin Courtney was born.  Cousin Courtney is a lot like the person who I have always wanted to be.  She says what she feels when she actually feels it.  She’s not afraid to express herself even if it’s too bold, too flamboyant, too much for the occasion.  Cousin Courney doesn’t give two fucks because Cousin Courtney is herself first, and a people pleaser last.  The irony is not lost on me that I have to be a personality somewhat removed from my own to be confident in myself, something that Cousin Courtney would never do.

To get into this new character I promptly got my nails done a bright red.  

I picked all the dramatically black outfits to wear for such an occasion, took a few deep breaths and was finally ready to embark on what I could only assume was going to be a very heavy weekend, but not awkward, never awkward because Cousin Courtney simply doesn’t do awkward.

I was wrong of course.  The Cousin Courtney character lasted for about two point five seconds.  Probably about the time I saw my dad, saw his fluster, heard him say the first thing that must have popped into his mind because it was disjointed from the conversation at hand and then he proceeded to apologize when everyone showed up an hour late because he must have told them the wrong time, which I don’t think that he did, but he, like me, always assumes that if there’s a wrong doing it’s probably his fault.

My dad and his brothers. From left to right: John, Edward, Dad, Mike

I’ve never hugged so hard, not a Cousin Courtney thing for she’s never one for warmth, but I think that’s what grief does. It wraps you in a darkness so intense that family is the only ones that can pull you out of it and a hug is what you need to feel that you really aren’t alone with your tears because they are validated for what they are, an intense pain leaving your body, washing away everything that you feel to leave you cleaner, brighter on the other side.

My grandfather’s death was expected, but I found that I was crying not so much for his passing because I do believe that he was ready, but rather for the passing of my childhood.  I looked around at all of my cousins, now all grown up, most with grown children, and I could still picture us gathered around the kid’s table at Thanksgiving and laughing as we joked about the adults, about the food, about each other.  I bought my first album, The Eagles Greatest Hits, because I overheard my two cousins Amara and Adrianne talking about how great the Eagles were.  My cousin Amanda and I always seemed to do the same things, at the same time, although we only ever saw one another once a year and even now, she’s trying to learn Spanish, taking the same level in Duolingo, gets to talk to Lily and express how much me gusta el pan, and I am doing that very same thing now although we haven't talked in over 10 years.

Here are Amara, Amanda, and Adrienne at dinner the night before the funeral.  We shut the place down but could have continued talking for a few hours more.

From left to right: Amara, Amanda, Me, Adrianne

I felt lighter on the drive home after my grandfather was buried, goodbyes were said and promises were made to make more of an effort to stay in touch because that’s important.  Family's important for nothing else but to make you feel that you aren’t really alone in the world.  Your personality, your idiosyncrasies are shared with others and that should mean something.  It’s the family events that are the one place where I shouldn't have to create a character because they should know the real me.  As much as I think sometimes that I’m not seen, not heard, I realized this weekend that there is family that sees me, hears me, and I didn’t need Cousin Courtney to feel comfortable after all.  So often though it’s a feeling of judgement that beats me down with its screams that I’m not enough, will never be enough, but if there is that judgment hidden somewhere dark and secluded, like judgement is so prone to lurk, is that a something that I can really help?   If others judge me, even if it is family, isn’t that on them? 

Writing this now I feel more attuned to the Cousin Courtney character for wouldn’t she be saying something so similar right now if given the opportunity, which makes me wonder about my created characters. Are they just different versions of me? I suspect that they are. Why pigeon hole myself into what I think I should be or feel or do?  I’m multi faceted and aren’t we all in one way or another.

I don’t know if I will ever completely understand the person who I am, although I’m hopeful that I will one day, maybe when I’m 94, like my grandfather, and maybe I will be lucky enough to have someone, anyone, tell me that they do see me, they do know me, they do hear me and best of all they do accept me for all of my characters, Cousin Courtney included. 

James Ragain, husband, father, grandfather (1931-2025)