Church Basement Parties

1/25/16

Important memories have a knack for bubbling to the surface at the opportune moment.

My Grandma (Dad's mom), passed away when I was in the 6th grade. She was the first one of my relatives to pass away. Hers was the first funeral I ever went to.

After the funeral there was a reception in the basement of the town (Echo OR) church. I sat next to my Aunt Dee during. I always liked her. She always enjoyed talking to me, was always nice, didnt boss me around. Ya know, all the combinations that make up a great relative. Even after just burying her mother, she was willing to answer all the questions that an 12 year old had to ask. I asked about my Grandma, what she was like more. I asked about what my dad was like as a kid. What this town was like as a kid, what she was like. She answered everything with a smile. She gave  me this new perspective on the lives of people I had know my whole life. I loved it and I loved her for it.

Sadly, I did not remember how much I enjoyed and cherished that moment until this morning. I woke up to a text from my dad saying that she had passed away peacefully. I stared working backwards, and thinking about the times I had spent with her. I saw her just this last summer at a family reunion Illinois. Before that it had been a very long time and quite possibly the last time may have been my Grandma's funeral. But then I remembered how amazing she made that time. How she was able to let a little boy, confused about the box containing his Grandmother, bombard her with questions, and make him feel comfortable. I remember how she normalized the situation. Helped me to feel ok with my first experience with loss. I dont know if she knew what she was doing, or if she was just having a conversation and doing her best to put up with me. Either way, it still means so much.

Im sad I never got to thank her.

I have a lot of Aunts and Uncles. They in turn have a lot of kids, nieces, nephews and grandchildren. So I do not expect much in terms of the memory department with them. But when she was able, every year, on my birthday there was a phone call or a card. Every year the age of my birthday was correct. Neer once did she ask me how old I was. Even this summer. She knew I was 21. Again, I dont know how she did it.

But I  thank her for it.

RIP Aunt Dee.