A few years ago, my late father-in-law, Jim, started doing something new. Whenever he would introduce me—to his friends, neighbors, the front desk and maintenance people at his and my mother-in-law’s apartment on the Jersey shore—he would introduce me as his daughter. At first, I would correct him, adding “in law,” but he would always shush me and say something like, “we’re past that.” Eventually, I stopped correcting him and took it as what it was: public declaration of love and acceptance into his family.
Jim reminded me of my Uncle Johnny—technically my great uncle, as he was my grandma’s brother. Uncle Johnny was the closest thing to a grandfather I had. My mom’s dad lived far away and wasn’t in the picture from the time she was a teenager. He died when I was younger and I’m not even sure I ever met him. My dad’s dad also lived far away and also wasn’t in the picture as my dad grew up. I never met him. He died more recently.
Uncle Johnny walked my mom down the aisle when she married my dad. He also lived far away but visited fairly regularly and hosted my family as visitors when we could manage it (the photo above was taken on a trip to Eze, France, where he lived for some time). He was always so supportive and encouraging of my interests and endeavors, never short on praise. Like a good grandpa. He died eight days before Jim, who died last week.
Even though I’m related, by blood, to Uncle Johnny, and through marriage to Jim, they were not my grandfather or father, respectively. But they each so naturally took on those roles with joy and excitement.
And I should add that I’m quite close with my dad. And Jim also has a daughter, Richie’s older sister. So it’s not like we were looking to fill in missing branches on our family tree.
But that’s the point. Uncle Johnny and Jim each made a conscious choice about who was family to them, and I’m so lucky that they chose me.
In loving memory of Johnny Cusick (August 2, 1935 — September 25, 2024) and Jim Kahn (May 7, 1952 — October 3, 2024).