I was about 13 years old and decided to write my aunt a letter. I think I might have been a disgruntled teen and was teeing up my aunt to remember that my birthday was coming up, that my brother was annoying, my parents were annoying, my dog was annoying...you get the point. Disgruntled - and with an aunt I could complain to.
I probably owed her a thank you note, as well.
Because the rule was "no note, no more gifts."
So I mastered the art of the thank you note - which, by the way, has served me well.
Somewhere in the middle of my complaining, I wrote that I was thankful for the fussy socks. They were cute or warm or pretty or what have you.
About three weeks later, a letter returned...
"JeniGirl...blah blah blah...it's fuzzy, not fussy....blah blah blah. Love, A.H."
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About a year or so later, we hosted the family reunion for Christmas. I was in charge of sweeping the front hall.
As a disgruntled teenager.
And my sweep strokes were paltry at best. Little, itty bitty strokes that said "Fine, I will sweep, but I won't do it well."
My aunt snatched the broom from my hand and demonstrated that pushing the dirt around was not the point and that I was actually tasked with sweeping up the debris.
I think I burst into tears.
Again with the disgruntled.
But I tell you what, there isn't a moment when I don't pick up a broom now and think of her.
Then there was the time it was just the two of us on the couch...and I held her hand and fussed with her rings. We had a pension for jewelry. Oh, we loved jewelry. In fact, when I knew Hubs was the one, I not so subtly told him that my aunt could help out with any jewelry purchases he might happen to make. Can I tell you how much I love our rings?
And there were texts and calls. Visits and chats. Not all the time, not every week. But they were there.
And let me not forget the looped handwriting of love when my children's birthday cards arrived and the $5 bill fell out.
That's how I explained who she was to them last night - the $5 bill aunt.
"aaah, yes!" they exclaimed!
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My final visit was one that was a blessing...and a hard one. My aunt had a stroke about 15 months ago - and the slow decline began. Sometimes with a flurry and fierceness that no one wanted. Sometimes with the methodical plodding for a destination no one wanted either.
To live with vibrancy is one thing - to live with methodical plodding is entirely another. The writing was on the wall.
So my mom and I knew it was time to go see her - and we visited and chatted. We plotted and schemed. We sang to Jesus - and that she was my sunshine, my only sunshine. And on days like today, when the skies are grey, I know she'll know how much I love her.
My final memories will be one of amusement.
She made a joke - a stroke patient in the waning days of her life - made a joke. A big one.
I stuck my tongue out at her.
"Girl," she exclaimed, "I know things about you."
"Oh Lord Almighty, you do," I cackled, and promptly put my tongue back in my mouth.
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Yesterday, we knew the end was here. That constant stress of every time the phone would ding with a text.
Modern communication is a treasure and a curse.
My mom got the message about 2am this morning...and passed it on to me about two hours ago.
It's now 9am. The world continues to spin, the birds are chirping, the kids are in school...and my aunt is gone.
But she didn't take the sunshine away - it will be here. Just like my memories - of fuzzy socks and unswept floors - of sparkling diamonds and cackles of joy.
Love you forever, like you for always, my precious aunt. Hug your parents for me.
