Saying Important Things

This is something I wrote to myself a couple weeks ago. I post it now because I did contact my cousin and it turned out to be a positive experience.

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How do you say something important to someone you don't really know?

This isn't a problem I normally have. If I have something I feel is important to say it’s either general enough that I can drop it on my blog (like littering on the internet) or it’s to someone I know well enough that I’m comfortable just saying it to them.

I have this cousin who’s about ten years younger than I. As with most of my cousins I don’t know her very well. There are a few of my cousins who I know better, but I could count the number of times I saw this cousin, or any of my cousins, on both hands. Although, at this point it’s probably fair to say whatever I once knew about even my closest cousins has little to nothing to do with who they are now. They aren't to be blamed for this thing. If it’s a failing, it’s all mine. Admittedly I didn't have a lot of opportunities to bond with my cousins, or aunts and uncles or grandparents while growing up. At best we saw some subset of them once a year, sometimes we’d go two or three years without in person contact. And now that I've been out of my parent’s house and in California for 16 years I see everyone even less.

Facebook has allowed me to interact with a few of my cousins less directly. I can at least see where they live and every now and then what they do with their days. Mostly though it just lets me know that they’re playing Farmville or need me to join their zombie apocalypse army. I’m not knocking anyone for playing those games, I play far too many video games to judge anyone on that account; I’m just establishing the limited view I get even with Facebook around. 

However, recently I friended this particular, younger, cousin on Facebook. I still can’t say I know her very well, but I can’t help but feel that had we been the same age and gone to the same school we would have been good friends. And more friends was a thing I could have sorely used during that time, and if I had to venture a guess she likely could have too. Even though such a rearranging of timelines and geographies is impossible, it doesn't detract from the fact that I have this feeling of kinship with her that I've never really felt before between myself and one of my non-immediate relatives.

And though this age gap and this spacial distance exists between us, and though I’m probably the cousin she knows least of all, I can’t help but want to connect with her in a meaningful way. I want to reach across those miles and tell her she’s a beautiful human being; that shit gets better; that life, when you stand in the light just right and close your eyes to the sun, is astonishing; I want her to know I’m rooting for her happiness. But how does one say that? How does one come out of the murky past and make such bold statements of affection? And how does one do it without coming across as creepy? I don’t know.

When I was sixteen, living in Washington, I met my “Uncle” Greg. He was twelve or fourteen years older than I was. He kept his exact age secret and it was one of the many things that made Greg mysterious to me (and everyone who met him). He isn't really my uncle and at the time he lived in California. He is my best friend's uncle. When I moved to California I moved in with my best friend and Greg. Admittedly the relationship I had with Greg was unusual. He was a mentor, a nonjudgmental sounding board, and--even with our age difference--above all else he was a friend. There were months during my four years of college when I spent more time with him than I did with anyone else, even my best friend. And though he had many mighty struggles of his own, he gave a young man who often felt alone in the world, hope in the future, and even more importantly, a contentedness with my own societal differences/awkwardnesses. More than anyone he helped me feel comfortable with who I was; figuring out how to do that allows me to remain comfortable with who I am today, even though that young man of 20 doesn't much resemble this older man of 34.

These thoughts of Greg feel relevant somehow. I suspect my cousin could benefit from someone like Greg in her life, honestly I think everyone could. But more to the point, it lends some credence to the myriad of ways that people can connect, despite their different experiences and ages.

Regardless, I don’t even know what I would say to her, other than what I already mentioned before. I’d probably send her MP3s to listen to and books to read, I’d beg her to never stop writing. I’d expect the things that helped me to have the same impact upon her. She likely needs something else, maybe she needs nothing, maybe she’s tired of other people--especially men--trying to fix her, but I've convinced myself she absolutely needed The Downward Spiral five years ago. Maybe she has her own Pretty Hate Machine and Little Earthquakes. Maybe she has her shit together. Maybe I've mistaken the whole thing, but couldn't everyone use one more friend to lean on even in the best of circumstances?

I suppose I could just be blunt about it. It’s not like I can ruin our nonexistent friendship. Worst case she can mark me down as a crazy cousin. Or maybe I can casually interact with her more. But maybe she’ll miss what I’m trying to say and maybe I’ll forget what I’m trying to say.