Today I am going to my Aunt Dorothy's funeral, and I am sad. My sadness is the deep-down, shake you to the core kind of sadness. I'm sad because she is gone, but sadder because so many, many people will miss her sincere compassion and love. I can honestly say she was one of the best people I have ever known. I can't recall a cross word or a bitter comment. Her life was filled with love, faith and smiles...countless cheery bright-eyed smiles. When I think of Aunt Dor, I can't do it without thinking of her smile first and her hug second. Her hug was always an extended one, often given with a rub of the shoulder and always with her cheek against mine.
As I remembered Aunt Dor at her wake yesterday I was filled with a deep sense of nostalgia, and loved soaking in the stories others told about her. I heard someone wistfully say, "she had so many friends." It was impossible not to be her friend because she was a friend to every person and dog that she ever met...except for Lilly Corse...she didn't like Lilly. My dad told me that McDonald's, her long-time employer, had posted signs on the door notifying customers of Aunt Dorothy's services, and several of her co-workers stopped in in their uniforms to say goodbye. I was introduced to her friend Marie who told me, "Dorothy adopted me because I am a widow and she wanted to know I was safe." My dad told me that she was his biggest supporter and he wondered what he was going to do without her. I laughed with my cousins in several of those laugh-because-I-can't-cry-anymore moments. Aunt Therese and I marveled at how things seem to fall apart when you least expect it...
But then I hugged Uncle Ed and while I marveled at his courage and strength, he reminded me that her work here must have been done and that God had called her home. Those are words that I've heard so many times that they often seem cliche...but last night they were so, so true. I could write pages about how she has touched our lives and the holes she will leave behind. Yet, her work was remarkable in its simplicity, and it was all done with the purest heart and the kindest soul. She simply loved every person she met and did everything she could to bring joy to the lives of those around her. So, now I am off to celebrate the life of Aunt Dorothy and the lasting legacy she has passed to those she has loved, but I'll have to do it with a fistful of tissue and tears in my eyes, because today I am sad.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Jewelry Box Q & A with Faith
Sometimes I am astounded when I think about how rapidly my life moves. There's the daily rush to get out of the house and to work on time, and then for the next seven hours I move with the herd at the sound of the bell while rushing to make copies, deadlines and a difference. Finally, the day wraps up with homework, sibling rivalry, a catch-as-catch-can dinner and bedtime routines. My head hits the pillow with thoughts of tomorrow's rush and a serious longing for the weekend.
However, this morning, even in the midst of the haste, Faith forced me to slow down and enjoy the moment I was in. She woke with a smile instead of her typical scowl, she was satisfied with the clothing options for the day, and her hair was only "a little bit tangled." While I brushed her hair she browsed my jewelry box...on any other day I'd have told her we didn't have time for that. She fingered colorful costume jewelry, stacked her fingers with shiny rings and asked questions...lots of questions. Simple questions, the who, what and where of the pieces -- she wanted the stories that I hid in my jewelry box.
She asked and I answered. I told her about the claddagh ring I got from my Grammie on my 13th birthday...my most embarrassing birthday ever.
"Why, mom?"
"Because, everyone...I mean everyone...in my family came to my basketball game, brought balloons and sang happy birthday to me."
"Grammie was really nice to give you a ring."
She giggled, set the ring aside and picked up another one.
"That was the ring I wore when I was pregnant with my babies...when my real wedding ring wouldn't fit."
"Can I wear one to school?"
"Nope."
More smiles, more questions...Hair brushed, pony tail finished. Hurry, hurry...rush, rush. Time to go.
I sent her downstairs for her shoes, backpack and coat. But, first I slipped a ring onto my own finger --a starburst sapphire ring, in a silver setting that my dad had given to my mom when they were dating. I remember inheriting the ring from my mom, after eyeing it countless times in her jewelry box. In recent years, looking at that ring sit in my jewelry box brought frustration and animosity, but today it made me happy...so I put it on and resumed the rush.
My day was even more hectic than a typical Wednesday, but I was steadied by my time with Faith and by the ring on my right hand. Today, I know that it is more than a castaway object tied to old memories; instead it's a keepsake with a story of its own. That conversation with Faith might have lasted 3 minutes, but they were the best 3 minutes of my day. Those minutes were filled with wonder, interest and a reverence for items hidden inside my simple little jewelry box.
However, this morning, even in the midst of the haste, Faith forced me to slow down and enjoy the moment I was in. She woke with a smile instead of her typical scowl, she was satisfied with the clothing options for the day, and her hair was only "a little bit tangled." While I brushed her hair she browsed my jewelry box...on any other day I'd have told her we didn't have time for that. She fingered colorful costume jewelry, stacked her fingers with shiny rings and asked questions...lots of questions. Simple questions, the who, what and where of the pieces -- she wanted the stories that I hid in my jewelry box.
She asked and I answered. I told her about the claddagh ring I got from my Grammie on my 13th birthday...my most embarrassing birthday ever.
"Why, mom?"
"Because, everyone...I mean everyone...in my family came to my basketball game, brought balloons and sang happy birthday to me."
"Grammie was really nice to give you a ring."
She giggled, set the ring aside and picked up another one.
"That was the ring I wore when I was pregnant with my babies...when my real wedding ring wouldn't fit."
"Can I wear one to school?"
"Nope."
More smiles, more questions...Hair brushed, pony tail finished. Hurry, hurry...rush, rush. Time to go.
I sent her downstairs for her shoes, backpack and coat. But, first I slipped a ring onto my own finger --a starburst sapphire ring, in a silver setting that my dad had given to my mom when they were dating. I remember inheriting the ring from my mom, after eyeing it countless times in her jewelry box. In recent years, looking at that ring sit in my jewelry box brought frustration and animosity, but today it made me happy...so I put it on and resumed the rush.
My day was even more hectic than a typical Wednesday, but I was steadied by my time with Faith and by the ring on my right hand. Today, I know that it is more than a castaway object tied to old memories; instead it's a keepsake with a story of its own. That conversation with Faith might have lasted 3 minutes, but they were the best 3 minutes of my day. Those minutes were filled with wonder, interest and a reverence for items hidden inside my simple little jewelry box.
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