Fading, fading

Earlier this week, my cousin texted me to let me know his grandmother (my aunt) was in the hospital. Today I got the text: “when you get a moment, please call me.” 

I’m no dummy. That’s never good news. For roughly the last 11 years, my cousins calling direct has almost certainly meant bad news, and too often the worst kind. And so it was today as well. My aunt suffered an unexpected cardiac arrest, and was unable to be resuscitated. My dad’s only remaining sister is gone, almost 3 years after her other sister. Now out of the seven, only four remain, all boys.

My aunt Peggy was my Shero, in so many ways. I could tell a million reasons why but suffice it to say that it was her outlook. My dad’s family is notoriously stoic. Up until they all got older, they didn’t say much (but my cousins and I can attest to how CHATTY they’ve gotten in old age). Each of my dad’s siblings have taught me something, and for me, with Peggy it was resilience. She has overcome things that would drive lesser mortals to their knees. She did it with this sense of one deep breath in, one long exhale out, and “okay, now we know, what comes next?” attitude. A moment to reset and then come up swinging. 

And she did so with tremendous love and caring. You were always welcome at her house, around her table. She was a sharp cookie and no pushover but she had a lot of empathy and care. 

That’s who I want to be: a woman of strength, resilience, empathy, love. I have a long way to go to get anywhere in Peggy’s league. 

Godspeed Aunt Peggy. After you have seen your husband and son again, please give all the relatives my love. I can see my brother laughing it up with you already. And I’ll see you one day.