BY HER SIDE
My Aunt Mary died yesterday. I was in the middle of directing a funeral service, and I felt my phone vibrate. I looked down and could see that my sister was calling; my sister in charge of my aunt’s care. I knew before I even answered the phone; my aunt was gone.
My aunt came up from Austin, TX, last week for my mother’s funeral with my sister. Unfortunately, my aunt wasn’t feeling very well, so they stopped at the hospital about a mile before they arrived at my home. My aunt was admitted for COVID-related pneumonia and had to watch my mother’s funeral via facetime. Sadly, she did not survive.
My aunt was my mother’s youngest sister. As a child, I remember my aunt living with us even once I was an adult. There was a short period when our family moved to a different state, and my aunt remained behind. I think it was because she had substantial employment, better than she had ever had before and better than she would ever have again.
She was employed by the Arizona School for the Deaf and Blind. She liked her job, and she wanted to keep it. Perhaps she also didn’t care for the state where we were moving. It was different from Arizona in every possible sense. At any rate, she would work all school year and then travel to our home and stay all summer. Even the separation of several states could not keep my aunt from spending substantial time with my mother.
When I was a little girl, my aunt would allow me to sleep with her if I suffered a nightmare. Now that I am an adult, I appreciate how uncomfortable she must have been on that tiny twin bed with a child snuggled up to her. That was back in the 1960s.
My aunt’s life was hard. She was born dirt poor, and she died dirt poor. She remained poorly educated all of her life. Most of her youth and young adult life was spent living with my parents. My father was very generous and happily provided a roof over her head without reward. His only requirement to reside with us was that she not smoke inside the house. She was a habitual smoker and would stand outside, on the front porch, to smoke. That was also in the 1960s, long before it became taboo to smoke in someone’s home or in public. Eventually, my aunt gave up smoking. That was a great day for all of us.
Two days after my mother’s funeral, I went to see my aunt in the hospital. She was very uncomfortable. I had to “suit up” in all of the anti-germ clothing to enter her room. She did not recognize me, and she was so ill that I could not hug her.
True to her character, my aunt complained about the food, not going to my mother’s funeral, and being uncomfortable in the hospital. I hoped her complaints would not be her last experiences in life. Sadly, they were.
I often say that most of us choose how we shall die. Some people find that surprising, but as a funeral director, it is my observation. Most of us choose our lifestyle, and indeed, our lifestyle is generally what leads to our final diseases. Even when we know our susceptibilities, few of us actively address them before they appear “en force.”
Thankfully, my aunt gave up smoking 40 years ago. After seeing too many family members die of emphysema/lung cancer, she decided smoking was no longer okay. Unfortunately, the damages of smoking remained with her, and she was unable to withstand pneumonia. That one habit from her young adult life weakened her lungs so profoundly that recovery was beyond her grasp.
My mother’s last living sister shall travel back to East Texas for her younger sister’s funeral this weekend. She was here last weekend, weak, tired, and filled with grief for my mother’s funeral. The travel will be difficult for her, but she is determined to come. When I saw her last week, I wondered why both of my aunts were not admitted into the hospital. I pray that this week will not be too much for her, as it proved to be for her younger sister. Travel can be dangerous, especially for those suffering the frailties of youthful carelessness once age has crept in upon them.
I believe my grandparents must be happy. Yesterday, on a beautiful Texas winter’s day, another of their beloved children joined them on the other side of life. I am sure they attended my aunt as she has suffered this last week of life, anxiously awaiting the removal of life-sustaining measures keeping her here and prolonging her sufferings. I believe my aunt is happy too.
I am happy that my mother and her sister are together in heaven and that their separation was not very long. Except for short moments of time, their lives on earth were lived together. My mother cared and provided for her little sister in all circumstances, even through the end when she could barely provide for her own.
That’s how life should be; loved ones caring for loved ones through thick and thin. That is how my mother was; she cared for those who needed her; when they needed her. Without consideration to herself, no matter how tragic her own life was, my mother would charge in and fight another’s battles. At life’s twilight, my aunt could not continue living without her beloved sister, her protector and friend; my mother, by her side.
My name is Tracy Renee Lee. I am a Certified Grief Counselor (GC-C), Funeral Director (FDIC), published author, syndicated columnist, Podcaster, and founder of the “Mikey Joe Children’s Memorial” and Heaven Sent, Corp. I write books, weekly bereavement articles, Podcasts, and Grief BRIEFs related to understanding and coping with grief. I am the American Funeral Director of the Year Runner-Up and recipient of the BBB’s Integrity Award.
It is my life’s work to comfort the bereaved and help them live on.
For additional encouragement, please visit my podcast “Deadline” at https://open.spotify.com/show/7MHPy4ctu9OLvdp2JzQsAA or at https://anchor.fm/tracy874 and follow me on Instagram at “Deadline_TracyLee.”
