Skip to main content

I cross the broad Connecticut River for maybe the hundreth time in my life as our car sped away from Springfield, Mass and makes its way to Bradley Field, the closeby airport that offers a quick escape from the old ties that bind. This has been a trip colored by sadness.  I am losing my dearest first cousin to cancer and I traveled East to say what most likely will be my last good bye.

My cousin, who I imagined as the Other Original Rebel in the family was rail thin, but her smile still could light up the landscape.  Although she was mildly confused, there was no question that she and I still had a strong bond.  The mid summer New England heat and humidity felt oppressive, but somehow appropriate.

Can home be two things at once?  Home/Not Home. Neil Diamond’s Lyrics of I Am I Said come to mind:  LA’s fine but it ain’t home, NY’s home but it ain’t mine no more.  The New England landscape holds memories, but there is a piece of the puzzle that no longer fits.  It’s difficult to put into words.  On one hand, the far away hills on the horizon looked like large anthills, not worth noting by California standards. They hardly impressed me. They seem diminished somehow.  On the other hand, the ubiquitous, overflowing white hydrangea blooms flowering so abundantly now spoke to the area’s beauty and history, as well as my love of flowers!  I thought of my own family history in the area that I’d learned many years ago. I was told that  my fraternal  grandmother planted long hedges of white hydrangeas in the front yard of the family home.  I admired them on many occasions, and actually picked masses of them one summer afternoon. It gave me a connection  to my grandmother who died before I was born .  Ah, so she loved flowers too!

The Time spent with my cousin passed quickly.  We headed North of Springfield to Northampton one day and another day to Shelburne Falls and the camera perfect Bridge of Flowers.

The Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge provided a great destination for a day’s outing as well.  I don’t think I appreciated the prodigious amount of work he did documenting American life, until the museum visit.

So the days passed pleasantly despite the awareness that parting was waiting in the wings.  Goodbyes are hard and I don’t like to prolong them.  On the other hand, they are best faced head on. We’d all have a cocktail for dinner which briefly helped. We ultimately bowed to the reality of life’s impermanence when the time came for us to end our visit and head to Bradley Field.   My cousin told me I gave her strength.  It makes me feel better to think so.  She inspired me with her strength and grace.  Letting go is not for sissies.  I am glad I made the trip.

Dianne Vapnek

In an attempt to slow life's quickening pace, I'm writing to share my personal perspective on the aging process, its dilemmas, the humorous self-deception, the insights and the adventure of it all. I spent the bulk of my time in beautiful Santa Barbara, CA, but manage to get to NYC a few times times a year. I've been a dancer/dance teacher and dance supporter almost all my life. For the past20years, I help create and produce a month-long creative residency in Santa Barbara for contemporary American choreographers and their dancers. It's been incredibly gratifying. This year, I decided it's time to retire! Big change. I also now spend several weeks a year in Kyoto Japan, residing for several weeks in the spring and the fall. I've been magnetically attracted to Japan for many years. Now I live out a dream to live there part-time.


  • 8knobhill says:

    Such a sad and lovely remembrance. I know how much she has meant to you over the years. So sorry to read this.

  • Claudia says:

    So close, yet so far. Would have loved to have you come up for a visit to our farm on the CT river (in VT)! So sorry about the loss of your cousin.

    • Dianne Vapnek says:

      Thanks Claudia, That would have been wonderful, but we had no extra time. MIssyou. sending love, Dianne

  • Linda Mason says:

    My first concert was Gary “US” Bonds, the song “Quarter to three”! The concert was at Wonderland, a thirties era swimming pool/dance floor with stage situation on the banks of the Thames ( London Ontario not London England but we copied all their names). I was way young, not even a teenager, but somehow I was there.
    My parents were both only children, so I grew up without cousins. You are lucky in that respect and I am so sorry you may be losing her. xoxo

  • Martin Ringel says:


%d bloggers like this: