Yesterday, would have been my Aunt's 101st birthday.
This is a memory that haunts me.
When you have been healthy for well over 90 years and eschew even Tylenol, those powerful pain relieving drugs they pump through your veins when you have a broken femur send you soaring.
And they sent her flying higher than a kite. In her most lucid moments that day, she shared stories of growing up as the 9th of 10 in a big Irish family, I think the stories she told that day were real, and yet I never will know for sure it they were or were not. For the nurses who came and went, the stories were entertainment, I suspect. I only wish I had taken the time to write them down. But, there was a constant flow of people in and out and to be honest, we never know there won't be more time.
Thus, from my memory, I will try to paraphrase one that haunts me.......
"We really did love each other," she began softly and my ears perked up because she had never been married and to my knowledge, had never dated. "Oh yes, he was special and so kind to me. But, we had to be secretive because his mother did not like me at all. He would hitch a ride to meet me in Middletown and we would go for sodas. But, his mother would not let him marry me because I was not Methodist. So we went our separate ways. I moved to the city and he went to war. He never came back. We didn't realize there wouldn't be more time."
5 comments:
Oh, how gorgeous. This could be the prelude to a novel.
Please write more. This is the stuff dreams are made of, except for the dying.
Perhaps he came back as a ghost? Perhaps that's why she never married? Oh, my mind is spinning with possibility.
You've served up a steamy cup of tea this morning, friend.
How sad for your aunt. I agree with Kinberly, this is a great opening for a story. It is true that we never know how much time we have with our loved ones. I have also wised I had written down stories told to me by family members.
I you have me so intrigued as I imagine your elderly (single) aunt high on pain killers, losing inhibitions for just one day and telling stories. I would imagine they were true, as our stories we tell ourselves are true to us. You are a wise writer to interlace the reminder that we never know how much time there might be remaining, both in her story and yours.
Oh my gosh, the end of your post is so poignant. I love how you capture this entire scene. It's incredibly moving.
Fran,
Holy cow! What a story. “We never know whether they’ll be more time” struck me first and then walloped me. Ugh on that religion getting in the way of love. How many have not had the love they deserve because of that.
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