Words

from Jared Amadeo Holstein,
Uncle

I was an uncle for the first time at 14, when diapers and breast pumps had all the relevance of a 401(k) and when male adolescence was a de facto pardon from diaper duty.

I consider myself the luckiest brother, to have two amazing sisters who inspire through compassion and meaningful lives, and that the universe saw fit to gift them, all of us, Peter and George, who couldn't better provide them love, support, and the seraphic patience required in partnering a Holstein woman.

How thrilled I was to learn that the Cassie and Peter's family unit was to be not just expanded, but doubled in one go, a celebration of both Peter's desire for an ample brood and Cassie's punishing modulus of efficiency.

I met Luca and Asher around their 6 week birthdays, Asher the contented "padrino" and Luca "sveglio" and startlingly connected to the world. When Cassie first placed Luca, this funny little man, in my arms, piccolo angelo left my lips before the thought even formed.

Luca's perfectly-proportioned, little-old-man physique was made all the realer by frequent incontinence, toothlessness, and award-winning flatulence followed by a "Who, me?" expression. Never had I met a baby who could fart louder than he could cry, surely a product of his father's legendary skill set and his mother's frequent and feeble attempts at deniability.

My too-few days visiting with their family were marked with laughter and the joy that breeds it. How grateful I remain for the moments Luca's weight made my arms humble, when his sweetest of smiles fulfilled of the promise of family. I know how proud our Mom, Gail, would be of the woman and mother her daughter has become. I'll always hold dear the memory of Cassie nourishing Luca in the shadows of a bright morning, her free hand on Asher's sleeping belly, a vision of peace.

Jared

(Words spoken at Luca Holstein Albers’ memorial service, 21 March 2008.)