abalone
Originally uploaded by lawatt.
My mom told me that our Auntie Poppa passed away this week. She was the oldest sister of my Grandmother, and she was just a magical figure when I was a child.
I think my mom is always a little hurt when I say this, but my Grandmother was not the warm and fuzzy type. She was a survivor, and she had gumption and grit, and I loved her because she was FIERCE. My daughter has a variation of my Grandmother's name because I hope she gets some of those qualities. Okay, a lot of those qualities.
Auntie Poppa was the warm and fuzzy one. She lost the lower half of her arm as a child, and until I was thirty, I really thought it had been twisted off in a washing machine accident. (I'm still fuzzy on the actual cause, but not willing to subject myself to the teasing from my family if I bring THAT one up again) Auntie Poppa would just smother you with love the instant you walked in the door. She fed everyone, including her dog, Kuhante. (SP?) After getting my first dose of lovin', I would run out the back door to her wonderland of a backyard. She had abalone shells lined up in endless rows as borders for her garden. They were the prettiest thing I'd ever seen, and she would always send one home with me.
When she passed away she was well over ninety, and had seen both of her younger sisters pass. I think it broke her heart. She had been in a gradual decline for a long time. My Auntie Doty, mom's cousin, had moved far from California to be closer to a daughter that really needed her, but she would come home and visit Auntie Poppa whenever she could. Auntie Poppa had not recognized her for the last few years. Doty came out this month and was stunned when Auntie Poppa recognized her and told her that she loved her. Then she went to sleep one last time and died three days later. What a blessing and a gift, just to hold your momma's hand one last time, but to hear her say that she loves you, and know that she really was talking to you? A Gift.
I don't think I can go to the service, but I'll make it over to see her grave eventually, and I'll take her an abalone shell. Love you, Auntie Poppa.
4 comments:
I'm sorry for your loss, Jen. It's always hard to lose someone who loves you back...
With deepest sympathy, Jen. She sounds like she was quite a character! They always make family reunions worth going to. May she rest in peace.
Thanks, Ladies.
My family is spread out, and there is a certain emotional distance for us when it comes to death--maybe because my folks deal with so much of it in their jobs? I'll do a post about a good death soon--I think it's something that our family has not mastered, but Auntie Poppa's was pretty close.
I think that was an awesome death post. (is that appropriate?) Im very sorry buddy. You gave her a beautiful tribute and Im sure that you brought her much joy.
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