A Life Remembered

I hope I never forget
the smell of her perfume
her red hair
stories about the beaches in Florida
her homemade pizza, spaghetti and meatballs, and macaroni and cheese
her glasses on a chain around her neck
her laugh
her smile
her love of the color pink
what a giver she was
how onery she was and how my brother teased her
comparing dyed eggs at Easter with my Granny to see whose turned out best
cracking Easter eggs on her head
tennis balls she gave my brother and I that bounced out of the court into her yard
her bright floral couch
the orange tree by her back door
the box of old jewelry she let me have
the little blue bear she gave Baden the last time he visited her

I saw my Great Aunt Ocie for the last time on Memorial Day when I went to the nursing home to visit my Grandma.  My Aunt Ocie was a special lady. She was a widow ever since I was a baby. She had been married to an Italian named Gambini and made some of the best Italian food in her younger days and I am fortunate to have her recipe for spaghetti and meatballs. She had no kids of her own, and celebrated all of the holidays with our extended family.  There's no way my mom could prepare me for the sight of my Aunt. She told me I wouldn't recognize her, but I wanted to visit her anyway. It was something I HAD to do. When we walked into her room, I instantly recognized her little bruised arms and crooked fingers. Only by God's grace did I not choke up and bawl in that room. I tried to talk to her but could barely understand her weak little voice. I offered to rub some lotion on her arms and told her she smelled good-that's the best way I could show her that day that I loved her. It was the hardest thing I've done in my life and I felt like I instantly matured by about 10 years. She asked me to get some money out of a red pouch in her drawer so she could leave a tip for her nurse. Inside the drawer, I saw a stack of old papers tied with a rubber band, and on the top was a picture of Baden.  I told her I loved her and left the room and cried. I knew she was about to die. All week I could not get the image of her out of my mind, an image of a frail old lady who barely resembled my Aunt Ocie. Fortunately I had an appointment with a professional this week who helped me work though the trauma of seeing her like that.

My dad called me this morning and told me she had passed yesterday. I am so thankful I got to see her on Monday. I hope she knew she was loved.