Note: This post has been sitting in my drafts since September 2021. I didn't feel like it was finished, and thought I had more to say. But after re-reading tonight (2/20/23) I see that I said it all then and that time has given me no additional words (save an edit and the last few lines). Nor has any of this made Aunt Mildred's passing seem more real.
We buried my Aunt Mildred, my mother's sister, on Sunday, September 19, 2021. She and my mother were born two years apart and have now departed life by nearly the same span. Losing my mother's sibling is like losing a piece of her all over again. There's one less person who knew her childhood secrets, one less keeper of memories, one less person to tell the story of that time when... Mildred battled cancer and was this close to beating it, when she was sucker punched by COVID. I'm writing because maybe this will make it real. Maybe this act of committing thoughts to paper will do what the casket, the flowers, and the grave could not. I know what I'm told and I know what I see yet it remains an illusion. How is it that a normal Sunday in August would be the last time I saw her alive? A see you later left hanging indefinitely between us.
Aunt Mildred was a true introvert. She could be in a room full of people and only say a few words and you'd have to listen closely to catch those. What I remember best is that when I was a kid I loved going to her house. She had a coffee table full and I mean FULL as in every surface covered with figurines and ornamental glassware and all the things my little hands couldn't wait to touch. And she let me. She never shooed me away or acted like the world was ending because I picked up this incredibly fragile piece. She was a much cooler aunt that I am :).
For whatever reason, in our years of adult interactions, I never said goodbye to Mildred. It just felt weird saying bye so I always parted by saying "Alright, Mildred (though we pronounced it more like Meer-E). And she'd say "Ok" or "Alright then," and that was it. We departed in peace until the next time...and there was always a next time surely there was an unlimited number of next times. Until now.
"So teach us to number our days that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom" (Psalms 90:12). That scripture was read at her service yesterday and for the first time I didn't chafe when I heard it. I used to think "Number our days? Aren't they short enough without doing the math?" I dreaded the very notion--what if I numbered my days and found there weren't enough?
What I recognize now is that that's precisely why we're told to number our days--because no, there aren't enough... there never were. But once you accept that you can get on with the business of making the most of the precious time given.
I don't really know how to end this post. I have so much more to say and yet nothing left. So I'll end this like I always did...Alright Mildred...
