Peter wrote a moving post on his site about caring for an elderly neighbor who was taken to the hospital this week when she fell and broke her shoulder and arm. She’s been in intensive care, and Peter has been caring for her cat, visiting her, following up on her medical issues, and trying to round up her family, who seem content to keep their distance and let a “stranger” tend to their mother.

His post raised the question: Who will be there for you on the day you go crashing to the floor?

It struck a nerve because on Sunday as I went through addresses and wrote out Christmas cards, I was overcome with tears over all the family members that I’ve lost or lost touch with. My dad was the oldest of eight children, but all his siblings are dead now. I’ve continued to send cards to the spouses they left behind, but I haven’t heard back from them in years. I have only one aunt remaining, on my mother’s side. My parents and one sister died when I was still in my 20s.

I have about 40 first cousins, but only have contact with a few of them, usually at Christmas. I’ve lost touch with some of my grown nieces and nephews over the last five years. I have more than a dozen great nieces and nephews, most of which I’ve never seen and who probably have no idea I exist. One of my sisters has only made contact with me once in the last three years—sending a Christmas card.

For years I worked hard to keep far flung family members in my orbit. I wrote letters, sent e-mails, made phone calls, mailed Christmas cards, shared photos, hosted reunions, and never forgot a birthday. It took a lot of energy, and sometimes I was hurt and disappointed when my efforts to maintain our ties failed. After I turned 40, I made a conscious decision to let go of my expectations and accept that some relationships were simply over or not going to be close ones. I resolved to put my energy into the relationships that were bearing fruit in my life and cherish the broad circle of friends that have become like family to me over the years. They are what my life is all about.

When Peter asked, “Who will be there for you on the day you go crashing to the floor?” I had to admit that I don’t know. I have a husband, I have children, but there are no guarantees that they’ll be there when I need them.

All I know for sure is this: When the people I love hit the ground, I plan to do everything in my power to help get them back on their feet,  or at least let them know that even when they can’t stand, they’re loved and not alone.

November 29, 2007