2021 04 02 Aunt Barb
There was a death in our family yesterday. Aunt Barbara was 89 years old and had been told last week that she “…was extremely healthy!”. Her response was horror! “I DO NOT want to live to be 100” she adamantly told the doctor (to her daughter’s embarrassment, I am told). I wonder if this was the same doctor who wanted to stop giving her pain medicine since she had a glass of wine with dinner every night? See, Aunt Barb was wheelchair bound and had suffered from a broken arm about 4 years ago. Not just any broken arm, she broke the bone that runs from your elbow up to your shoulder. She had to be hospitalized and then spent time in a physical rehabilitation center before she was allowed to go home. She had bursitis, and was in pretty constant pain. She asked the doctor, at the age of 85, “What, is drinking a glass of wine going to kill me?”
Barbara died on Thursday morning with a manicure (she had her nails done Saturday) and clean hair (she had her hair done Wednesday). On Thursday morning she got out of bed, turned off the alarm, let the dog out, let the dog back in and was reading in bed. There was no indication that she struggled or was in pain (or at least anymore that normal), and now she is with her beloved Joe and her son, Steve.
Uncle Joe and Aunt Barb moved to Mission Viejo, California 40 years ago. They met and were married in Colorado and his work took them to Illinois and California. After a couple of winters in the Midwest, Joe said he never wanted to shovel snow again. So he didn’t! They had 3 children, Jill, Steve and Stacy. Since I was the eldest child, Jill always intimidated me. She is like her mom, always busy accomplishing things, with a wonderful sense of humor and an amazing brain. She is the older sister I always wanted to be. I never wanted to HAVE an older sister…they are bossy! Steve was my friend. We got into trouble together when we were younger, and he was my only other ginger cousin. How could we not stick together? Stacy is one of the funniest people I know. I used to think she was laughing at me, but she just laughs. She can find the humor in anything.
I was 8 when my parents divorced. Joe always scared me to death. He was loud and gruff but never mean or cruel. We saw them at Grandma and Grandpa’s house one year for Christmas. Their family was moving to Illinois and Barb had cleaned out the girls clothes and brought them over for us. I didn’t realize how kind that gesture was. I hadn’t yet learned. But I did learn. Later. Joe and Barb offered to take 1 or 2 of us girls (my words, not theirs) to help raise. My mom was struggling without any support from my dad and without any marketable skills. We were on welfare and food stamps and Mom was doing her best. She thought about it for about 2 minutes and decided that no, we were better struggling together than having ease apart. I truly believe that single decision made more impact on my sisters and me and our lives than any other decision she ever made other that divorcing my dad.
Back to Barb. After learning that I might have grown up in Southern California, I spent a few years imagining my life as a Barbara daughter, having a life where I did not have to work at age 13, being able to go to college and having a Dad. Where I wasn’t the other Mom. The Brady Bunch with fewer boys. After some angst along the lines of “How could you ruin my life like that? I could have been …” I realized what an amazing gift it was that Mom turned down that incredible offer. I understand. And yet, every time I spoke to Joe and Barb, every time I visited them there was nostalgia for the life that wasn’t and the parents who weren’t but the life that might have been.
Joe gave me away at my first wedding. I “had” to get married and he, Barbara, Jill and Stacy flew to Denver on short notice to attend the wedding. I remember watching as Barbara ironed a shirt talking to Mom and me about Steve, about marriage and about life. Deep real and gritty talk, not fluffy life is beautiful talk. My moms were there. And Joe was the Father giving me away. I never thought I would have that. It was awesome!
Mom, my sisters and I are all very close and we grew up in this insulated bubble. I have very fluid boundaries and some awkward social skills. Barb was kind and gentle when she came up against my sometimes inappropriate behavior. She could be fierce when her people were threatened, and I was one of her people. I will always be grateful for the love and respect Joe and Barb showed my mom. They were good friends. Throughout the last years Mom would save up stories of grandchildren and great grand children to share with Barb. I cannot count the requests for pictures “So I can send it to Barb” and “I can’t wait to tell Barb” about the ridiculous things children do and say. Then I would hear the tales of Barb’s children and grand children, shared with love and joy.
A part of me has passed. That is sad. My Mom has lost a huge link to her life. Someone who knew Mom as a child. The person that gave her her first Elvis record when she was about 14. The person who grew up in the same neighborhood and who was good friends with Mom’s sister Rose before she became Mom’s sister. The woman who offered to help mother Mom’s children, one of only 2 women Mom would have even considered for the job. And my cousins, who have lost so much, have now lost their Mom.
Jill and Mathew, Stacy, Scott, Scottie and Samantha, Martha and Ashley will all live on, better for having had Barb as a gracious member of their immediate families. Barb died in the best way possible. At home without any fanfare or suffering, doing something she loved while living her life, hair and nails polished and pretty. Someday I pray that gives solace to all the people who love her. For this moment, however, the only thing they have is absence of Barb and the pain of knowing the absence exists. And the knowledge that Barb got the last laugh…It was April Fool’s day!
I Love you, Barb. Give Joe and Steve big hugs and know you are all missed, honored and, most of all, loved! Some may love you quietly, some loudly, some shyly and some fiercely, but you are loved by so many!
What a great tribute to Aunt Barb. Hugs