No school due to a snow day. Supposedly, they'll take them back tomorrow. Some parents kvetch on the school's Facebook page. Others, like me, rejoice.
Bubba needs to learn something. The school year is flying by so fast.
On top of all of it, another great relative has died. This one was special. Before he married into the family, he was the doctor for most of the folks in town. He even delivered some of Great Aunt Marion's kids (when she was married to dear departed old Uncle Gilbert, the guy who threw some great parties, known for their food). Dahey was their wedding photographer.
The day he died would have been their 12th wedding anniversary.
More later
Showing posts with label aunt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label aunt. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Will to die
When you've lived 92 full years, sometimes you know when it's time to call it quits. You lived a life as a sometimes opinionated spitfire who loved her wine and chocolate, a big sister and a matriarch of a family of a brood of kids with a husband you dearly loved. You loved him so much, you even learned to play golf...and met a whole other group of friends.
You apprenticed in the second story of the flat you grew up in because that's what everyone in your family did. My father always said since your mama did everything, "you had to apprentice to learn how to be a wife." That was okay, because your husband didn't mind at all.
But you were really responsible for a lot more than just the kids. You were one of the founding families in the local neighborhood and help to found a church. You held parties where your and your husband's family had a grand old time, with butchers, bricklayers, and salesmen among them. Everyone on the block (and even farther) remembered those parties,with food and fun. You played yenta and even threw a few engagement parties in the finished basement everyone in the neighborhood came to know. You are one of the folks responsible for me being here, since my parents met at one of those neighborhood parties in your basement so many years ago.
You enjoyed the kids, the grand kids, and the great-grand kids. In your family's culture from the old country, any kid was worthy of spoiling with candy and lots of hugs and kisses. And the grandmother-less kids got even more hugs and kisses and candy for the road. Bubba was tearing up today when folks were talking about you.
I will miss you Aunt Stella. You were so much to me: my father's aunt, my great aunt, Bubba's great-great aunt and his unofficial grandma.
Godspeed Aunt Stella. I know one day you'll "just tell me something" again. I really hope it's "Welcome, home."
You apprenticed in the second story of the flat you grew up in because that's what everyone in your family did. My father always said since your mama did everything, "you had to apprentice to learn how to be a wife." That was okay, because your husband didn't mind at all.
But you were really responsible for a lot more than just the kids. You were one of the founding families in the local neighborhood and help to found a church. You held parties where your and your husband's family had a grand old time, with butchers, bricklayers, and salesmen among them. Everyone on the block (and even farther) remembered those parties,with food and fun. You played yenta and even threw a few engagement parties in the finished basement everyone in the neighborhood came to know. You are one of the folks responsible for me being here, since my parents met at one of those neighborhood parties in your basement so many years ago.
You enjoyed the kids, the grand kids, and the great-grand kids. In your family's culture from the old country, any kid was worthy of spoiling with candy and lots of hugs and kisses. And the grandmother-less kids got even more hugs and kisses and candy for the road. Bubba was tearing up today when folks were talking about you.
I will miss you Aunt Stella. You were so much to me: my father's aunt, my great aunt, Bubba's great-great aunt and his unofficial grandma.
Godspeed Aunt Stella. I know one day you'll "just tell me something" again. I really hope it's "Welcome, home."
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