Death of a Cousin

Well, for a while I knew one of my cousins was dying of colon cancer, and I just learned that my second cousin, once removed, Frank Duncan Macpherson Strachan III died on Feburary 15.

I don't entirely know how I feel. Growing up, I met Duncna on occasion, but only got to know him and his family after I reconciled with my father in late 2000. Around that same time, Duncan's mother (and my surrogate grandmother), Rose Patricia Strachan nee Forsyth, died of cancer at age 85.

What is important is how I remember Duncan. He was funny and eccentric, as typical of many prominent uptown families. He had a huge WWII collection and in fact donated a tank to the D Day Museum in New Orleans. He also deeply loved New Orleans and worked heavily to restore it and to revive the middle class, while so many would want to make New Orleans a sanctuary for the welafare parasites.

I knew he was dying since Thanksgiving, so it is not too great a shock and to an extent I am fairly unphased by death. When my grandmother died, my cousin and I were making a death pool of the remaining family (I picked my grandfather, my Uncle Buck, my mother, and my Uncle Joe in that order..so far my grandfather died, and Uncle Buck is in poor health, plus my mother is chain smoking again), and maybe that is my coping mechanism, along with a joke about how weddings and funerals are linked in my mother's family...I made a joke that when Karen dumped me, Uncle Buck will live soem more.

I guess I am morbid and probably a touch disturbing in my approach to death. For now, requiest in pacem Duncan.