My Aunt Lillian
8:25PM on November 02, 2011
I want to be serious and share with you all an interesting story. I'll keep it brief since all my real prolific writing is over my book, plus, I don't want to annoy anyone with a mass of words.
My Aunt Lillian was born in 1919, two years after her husband, my Uncle Daniel. Yes. Aunt and Uncle. Not great aunt, great great or any of that extended mumbo jumbo. We're talking straight direct as in I'm their niece.
I was born in 1980.
My paternal grandfather was born in 1878, paternal grandmother in 1898. My dad was born the youngest of six, the eldest (Daniel) born in 1917, my dad born in 1934. A few weeks after my dad was born, his mother died. Three years later, my grandfather died.
My Aunt Lillian is 93 years old. A spitfire. Old. Sweet. I use to visit her all the time when I was little but I can't remember much other than "the nice aunt or uncle" or "that house on Brooklyn Street where my dad was legit born.
The point of this is moot. just sharing a little history.
It's not very often you can hear someone say "there's almost 103 years between me and my grandpa in age."
Last night my Aunt had a heart attack and was rushed 2 minutes to the local hospital where she is. The doctor said he gives her 2-3 days max if at all that. It's bittersweet as she's the last living aunt / uncle in the same generation as my dad (who passed away in 2005). It leaves my mom as one of the "In-laws" but she's only 61 so it's a huge gap between her and her sisters/brothers in law.
My aunt's great-grandson is my friend. He told me something sad, sweet, however you want to put it that when she was responsive and talking she said.
I want my mom.
I hope sincerely in my heart (as an avid believer) that she -sees- her mother and welcomes her into whatever afterlife there is. It breaks my heart though that at 93 the only thing she wants is her mother. It goes to show you that no matter how old you are or how young, you will ALWAYS want your parents with you for the hardest things in life.