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Tomorrow, my parents arrive from the West Coast. We have to go to the funeral of my favorite aunt. Aunt Irene was my mom's big sister. Like my mom, she had dark hair and brown eyes, but unlike my sweet mom or their fun-loving brother, my Uncle Tommy, Aunt Irene knew her way around the world, and never, ever backed away from a fight. She worked for the government printing office in DC, and was constantly taking classes, reading, and learning. She was my favorite aunt for lots of reasons, but the best thing about her was that she always treated me like I was important, and my opinion really mattered to her. She had two sons, both much older than me, but my cousin Donna and I benefited enormously from Aunt Irene's lack of daughters. She taught me to sew by helping me make doll clothes, encouraged my passion for animals (especially horses) , gardening, and learning, and was a spectacular cheerleader whenever I needed a boost. She wrote to me at least once a month, starting when I was five and learned to read. She always had time for me, and I basked in her attention and her love. She slipped away from us gradually, after suffering a series of strokes and being diagnosed with Alzheimer's. Her once-sharp mind dulled, and she grew frustrated, then silent. I've been mourning her for a long time, but now I know she can rest. I hope she's with my grandparents, her brother, and her daughter Emily, who died in infancy. I'll keep trying to do what I told her I would: to be the kind of aunt to my niece, Elle, that Aunt Irene was to me. |
 
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Aunt Irene