a life worth living

On Friday, my mom, aunts & uncles, cousins and my sister and I attended a memorial for my Great Auntie June.  I am incredibly sad that she is gone, but she really was ready to go so I thought this would just be a sweet, simple celebration of her life.  I didn’t expect to bawl like a baby at the luncheon afterwards.

My Auntie June was an amazing person.  She had married my Grandmother’s brother Tad and they had two kids, a son Jeff and a daughter Susan.  Jeff passed away in a car accident when he was 20.  I was about 5 years old at the time and I wasn’t lucky enough to hold onto memories of him.  My Uncle Tad passed away 11 years ago and since then my Auntie has been patiently (and sometimes, not so patiently) awaiting the time until she could see Jeff and Uncle again.

Before my Uncle died he told Susan and Auntie that he didn’t want a memorial or funeral or anything.  He said he didn’t even really want people to know.  At Auntie’s service on Friday Susan said she felt like the service was for both of her parents and that she was finally getting closure.  My Auntie Lori had put together a slide show of pictures to show and it was amazing.  Pictures from when they were kids, their wedding, other special occasions and just pictures of the two of them together.

I realized at that moment how much I love and missed my Uncle Tad and how much losing Auntie June meant.  I was also struck at how in love they were.  There was never a picture where they were just standing side by side.  Every picture was infused with their love…holding hands, hugging, kissing, smiling so brightly it almost hurt your eyes.

I wanted to go up during the service when they invited people to speak, but I’m just not that comfortable with public speaking.  Paraphrasing Jerry Seinfeld, my sister said ‘I’d rather be in the coffin than doing the eulogy.’  But I wanted everyone to know that I knew what an amazing woman she was.

When I got married the first time I was young and clueless.  For a bridal shower gift Auntie June gave me a cookbook called A Dinner A Day.  Inside she had written me a note on a post it.

I never took the note out of the book.  Every time I opened up the cookbook to try out a recipe I would reread it and remember what she told me afterwards.  She told me that when she had married Uncle she couldn’t even boil water and spent so many years feeling inadequate.  She wanted better for me and promised me all the tools I would need along the way.

I remember I loved going to their house. My Uncle Tad loved gardening and their backyard was like a lush, green jungle. They always had interesting things to discover and look at in their home. Auntie would always have something for us, just little things, but we knew that she was always thinking of us. The last time she came out to Morgan Hill she brought a bunch of stuff that the hospital gives you. She gave me one of those round rubber discs that help you to open jars. I swear I have used that thing more than anything else in my kitchen. Greatest gift ever!

Throughout my life, out of the blue, she would send me letters, little notes.  Just to say hi or to encourage me when she might have heard troubling news.  To give me comfort when I went through my divorce.  Congratulations when my life turned around.  She always knew just what to say and I always knew that what she was telling me was the truth.  She was never afraid to speak her mind.  If she thought something was wrong, if someone was being misused, she would step up and say so. 

I admired her greatly.  I will miss her presence immensely.