This past weekend, I went to a family reunion in Maine. I think this was the first one in my life that I’ve actually attended for my mom’s side of the family, one of the official, organized ones anyway. It was a lot to take in.

Obviously, there was quite a bit to catch up on. Many family members commented that they hadn’t seen me since I was “this tall,” and honestly, I don’t remember those instances. I had to ask my mom who was who–several women in particular share the same names, such as Nancy, Jan, and Barbara. I didn’t know how many were related to me; there were a few first cousins once and twice removed, and I couldn’t keep track without using a chart I pulled up on my phone. There were those I had only heard of for a long time, and I finally got to put names to faces. I even got to meet another Erin, whose name was spelled Erynn. And here I thought I had the most creative version of that name!

There were hurry up and wait situations. There was a little drama. There were plates covered with lobster and pints full of beer. It all went by too fast. Before I knew it, Kevin and I drove back to New Hampshire, and my mom flew back to New Mexico the day after.

This reunion got me thinking. At first, I came to the rather morbid realization that, depending on what happens, I might not see some family members ever again. A handful of them are over or around 80 years old. I couldn’t help but wonder how much time they have left, which is awful to type and worse to mull over. Now, my great-grandmother on this side of the family lived to be 93. So here’s hoping that they have many years yet ahead of them. I want my realization to be totally wrong. I want to see them all again in that time.

Then, I thought about my immediate family, the people I’m closer to. My granddad is turning 80 this year. My grandmommy is just four years younger than him. That’s when it got really upsetting. This is where it hit closer to home.

I couldn’t bear to dwell on it for too long. Instead of following that train of thought any further, I started writing this. Reunions are meant to be celebrations, after all. This was the first time my mom got to visit our apartment! Kevin and I got to briefly show her Manchester before we headed up to Portland. My grandparents drove from Colorado, and having made that road trip myself, that’s no small feat. They’re still making their way back, since they had other stops planned, going as far south as Florida.

We walked around Portland, admiring all of the boats, lighthouses, and ocean views. We did plenty of people-watching, a common pastime for this family (hell, a common pastime for most of humanity). I was told by both my mom and my grandmommy that I look good, which always feels nice. Yet in this case, I’ve been working pretty hard on losing weight in the last year, so it felt especially nice. We listened to my grandad’s stories and heard a lot about past generations of the family who lived all over New England. I’ve apparently returned to the ancestral homeland. Most importantly, we spent time together, good time.

We drank. We talked too loudly, often over one another, but we laughed loudly too. We watched more Wicked Tuna than I thought possible, when we had no idea it existed prior to the reunion. It was all so much fun. It was a short but sweet gathering.

I love my family more than I could ever say. I’m lucky to have such an amazing one, despite the flaws it has. I love my mom and her side, and I love my dad and his side as well. It saddens me that I can’t see them as often as I once did. I miss them like crazy. I feel like that’s been one of the hardest things about growing up. It’s doesn’t help that I currently live across the country from most of them.

But it makes me even happier when I do see them. I’ve learned to be more patient with and more grateful for them than ever before. My time with them is as precious as it used to be, yet in new and different ways. Age has certainly helped me to understand that. And as I get older, and eventually when Kevin and I start a family of our own, my time with my family will continue to change. That’s how family works. That’s how life works.

I look forward to every minute of it.