In Memory of My Great Aunt Rose (1921 – 2010)
Do you ever have those moments when it seems like the world stops and you wish you could go back in time? Well, I’m having one of those days.
We said goodbye to my Great Aunt Rose today, she finally passed away at the age of 88. Although if she were able to have her say, she’d say, "you can’t bury me today, it’s too damn cold outside!" That was her in a nutshell, very particular and very feisty.
The funeral was one of the shortest I’ve been to, we pulled up to the cemetery around 10:30 a.m. Some snow had fallen overnight and it was 22 degrees out. The hospice chaplain talked about his brief encounter with Rose, he read Psalm 23, and we were done. It took no longer than 5-10 minutes, just the way Rose would’ve wanted it. Afterwards the family went to Bob Evan’s where we had lunch and talked… I think she would’ve enjoyed that.
After spending some time at GrandDad’s house, I decided to head back home. The cemetery was on the drive back so I stopped by her grave. Freshly turned dirt was placed over where her casket lay six feet under, with flowers on top. And as I stood there, I just looked at the mound of dirt and thought to myself, "where has the time gone? Wasn’t it just yesterday that I was at Grandma and GrandDad’s being told, ‘get out of Aunt Rosie’s chair so she can sit down!’"
That memory resounds in my mind as I sit here and watch old family videos. Yup… there’s Micah sitting in Aunt Rosie’s chair. "You want to sit with me?" she asks Micah. And as she tries to sit down, she realizes it can’t be done and Micah moves. A few minutes later in the tape she takes a plastic bag and starts folding it when Eric and I grab the other end and try to pull it from her. Aunt Rose lets us win for a couple seconds and just yanks it, sending Eric to the ground and leaving me laughing watching this event unfold twenty-one years later.
She loved us very much. In recent years I would go over to her house after family gatherings and just sit there and talk with her. I loved it because I got to see a side of Aunt Rose that I never saw growing up. I learned more about her, her side of the family, and she even told me stories about my GrandDad when they were growing up.
She was so proud of her son, Ronnie. She was proud of her grandson Rick for becoming an officer in the Navy. She would BEAM with pride talking about one of her great-grandkids CJ who did exceptionally well in school (even with long hair). I laugh because she always used to tell me, "you know what? If having long hair is the worst thing he does I’m fine with it, because he’s a good kid."
I remember her telling me a story of my GrandDad when he was really little. Apparently my GrandDad used to swear a lot when he was younger and on his birthday, the cake (or something near the cake) caught fire. My GrandDad, being two or three at the time screams out, "JESUS CHRIST, THE CAKE’S ON FIRE!" Just the thought of it now makes me laugh. And just so you know, my GrandDad stopped swearing after being in the service, so you don’t have to worry about him using the Lord’s name in vain.
If you had ever visited Rosie at her house, she’d have you sit down in the kitchen while she sat there and talked while smoking a cigarette. In the later years she traded in her cigarettes and ashtray for oxygen. But other than that, not much changed. We’d come in and she’d share the letters and pictures from my Great Uncle Bill (who lives in California), her son Ronnie (who lives in Florida), and the great-grandkids (who live with Ronnie down in Florida as well).
Every year on the Fourth of July we’d go to Rosie’s house because she was a couple blocks away from the parade route. It was also within walking distance of the park, which was perfect for us kids who got restless and wanted to get away. Every year she’d move her car out of the garage and set-up tables with food on it and then we’d take shelter under the big tree in the front yard.
I’m thankful that I got to see her when she was in the hospital. In fact, my last memories of her are from that time. My first visit was when she was first admitted to the ICU. She wasn’t happy about it, but knew it was necessary. I sat there talking to her, trying to listen as best I could, even with her oxygen mask on. She loved to walk around, but we kept trying to tell her that we couldn’t move her because of all the stuff she was hooked up to. She was still feisty, "wait until Ronnie gets here, he’ll straighten things out."
My last memory of her was two weeks ago. They had moved her out of ICU and was getting ready to transport her to the nursing home. When I walked in, she was sleeping and the TV was on. I didn’t want to disturb her, I just wanted to be in her presence. So I walked over and sat in the chair and just read my book. Occasionally I’d look over, pray for her, and watch her sleep, realizing it may be one of the last times I’d see her.
Many people have told me, "sorry for your loss," and I greatly appreciate the sympathy and prayers. But I know that Rose wouldn’t have wanted such a big fuss made on her behalf. She lived a good, long eighty-eight years on this earth and if she needed to have bags packed for this journey to the next life, she would’ve had those bags packed years ago.
As I sit here watching these old family videos, I wish I could go back in time and relive those moments I’ve had with her, but I can’t. All I can do is sit here and enjoy watching what we’ve captured of her life and be thankful for all the years spent with her.