Reunions
Reunions
As the end of summer 2025 draws near, I find myself reflecting on a season that seemed to have one steady theme: reunions.
Growing up, the highlight of every summer was always the Gamache Family Reunion. My mom, Doreen, was the third of 18 children (yes, you read that right—18!), which meant we never ran out of cousins to chase through the yard or names to forget. Back then it was volleyball in the grass, endless splashing at the pool, and poker games in the barn that went on well past bedtime.
Those days faded as the years went on, but this summer, something shifted. One brave aunt opened her doors and nearly 100 of us gathered—15 of the original siblings, spouses, cousins galore. The activities have slowed—volleyball replaced by silly card games and the occasional “Now, wait… who is that again?” whispered when a face wasn’t familiar. But what hasn’t changed is the laughter. The belly-deep, pee-in-your-pants kind that comes when stories from decades ago resurface, reminding you who you are and where you came from.
On the other side of my family tree, the Heffron reunion was much smaller but no less meaningful. These are the people who ground me, who quietly shaped the woman I’ve become. I find myself asking more questions these days—leaning into the stories of those who came before me, grateful for the lessons tucked into their lives.
And it didn’t stop there. A high school friend’s 40th wedding anniversary, a 50-year grade school reunion (how is that even possible?!), and a gathering with women from the neighborhood where I raised my kids. Each one was a reminder: while houses change hands and decades slip by the threads of connection remain.
I’ll admit, walking past the home where I spent 16 years brought a lump to my throat. My former husband is preparing to sell it, and though it’s been 15 years since I lived there, it still holds echoes of my children’s laughter. Reunions have a way of stirring both the joy and the ache, don’t they?
And yet, as I wrap up this summer—knowing there are still more celebrations ahead, like my nephew’s wedding and our annual Sun Lakes trip—I’m filled with something bigger than nostalgia. I’m filled with gratitude and appreciation. For the people who have walked beside me in every season. For the ones who held me when life unraveled, who cheered when I found my footing again, who continue to love me as I grow into the woman I’m still becoming.
Maybe this summer brought your own reunions. Or maybe it brought change, loss, or something entirely unexpected. Wherever you find yourself, my wish for you is the same: that you pause long enough to notice the threads of connection in your life, to feel the joy tucked inside ordinary moments, and to remember—life, in every season, is meant to be celebrated.
