Mortality Redeux

My Aunt Joyce died last week. Though she was not in the greatest of health, her death caught me by surprise. When my mother died last summer, I knew that Aunt Joyce wouldn't last too many years longer. After all, she and my mom had lived together in the same small house for more than twenty years, taking care of each other, and sometimes fussing like an old married couple. But Aunt Joyce (actually Great-Aunt Joyce) had always looked after my mother, treated me and my brothers and sister as though we were her own children--all the more so since she did not and could not have any children of her own.

I called her every Sunday to check on her, and sometimes more often if I felt that she wasn't feeling well. She sometimes called me too when she was scared or lonely. When her doctor found a spot on her lung last November, she called me right away and I did my best to reassure her and to calm her down until the doctor could do more test. She told me at the end of the conversation that she was so glad that I was there for her to talk to when she she needed me. I could tell, however, that she was not only scared, but lonely and sad as well, but she seemed to be getting along.

At the end of January though, I called her one weekend and did not get an answer. I tried again the next day, and still didn't get answer. When I called other members of the family, I was told she had been taken to the hospital for a stomach infection. I spoke to her several times while she was there, hoping to reassure her and to remind her she was loved. Then one day, I called her room and there was no answer. Three days later she was gone.

The reason I write this today is that I have an automatic reminder in my calendar that pops up to remind me of her birthday. It popped up to day to let me know it was time to get her a card and small gift in the mail so it would arrive by her birthday. My mom died only four days after her 69th birthday. Aunt Joyce died only 13 days before her 78th birthday and almost 6 months to the day after my mom died. They always needed each other.

Mortality

My mother died recently. It was an expected death. She had been quite sick for a very long time. She had a heart attack in 2000, developed diabletes in 2001, continued to smoke after her heart attack (2-3 packs a day), and then developed emphysema, Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease and Congestive Heart Failure. I thought I was moving forward after her passing, but my uncle died last week from almost exactly the same health issues. Then, this last Friday, a friend died in a car accident leaving behind a wife and two small children. All this death just makes me think of my own mortality and takes me back to thoughts of my mom.

Despite her failing health, my mom was a scrappy fighter. She came out to Oregon for a visit every year from 1997 until 2005 until she was too sick to travel. So I went to see her. She was living with my Aunt Joyce and had been for twenty years, and they fussed like a couple of old hens - but they loved each other and wouldn't have it any other way. They grew up together and fussed then, so it was only natural they would do it when they got older.

Over the years she made sure she visited her grandchildren whenever she could. She came for both weddings my children have had, and she loved our 4th of July cookouts. But what she loved most was sitting out on my back deck in the wonderful Oregon summer away from the high heat and humidity of the Southern climate. Once out there she would just sit and enjoy the breeze and watch all the birds fly by. She was thilled to no end once when a fledging red-tailed hawk landed on the back fence.

Sometimes she would sit on the deck and paint. She brought her oils and brushes with her and we would get her small canvases to work on. Sometimes she painted rocks, driftwood and other materials. I still have some painted rocks in the planter on my deck. She was very artistic and always came up with some new idea for a craft item or a decorative display.

She loved her grandchildren and that was the role she cherished most. She was known as Granny to them and all their friends. Heck, aftter a while even her kids started calling her Granny.

Last year, I made her an hour long DVD entitled "Memories with Granny" and I gave it to her for Christmas. She loved it and showed it to all her friends and family. In the end, she requested that it be shown at her funeral. So it was. So, for an hour, we watched a video depicting her life in photos, videos, music and more importantly, in her own words. It was a most unconventional funeral for a most unconventional woman, and I think, a fitting tribute to her.

We'll miss you Granny.