I have spent a considerable amount of time over the past few days thinking about my aunt. A lot of the time has just been remembering stuff. Like the bridesmaids dresses she so generously let me and my sisters try on and wear for dress up outside in my grandparents back yard. Like the way I idolized her as the epitome of a single woman – just the kind of woman I wanted to be. Till I grew up a bit more and realized that being single is not necessarily easy and fun.
I am always correcting the nurses now when they call her Mrs Dice. Maybe that is an honorary title bestowed on sweet older women by virtue of age. I think she would protest a bit – in a sweet way – that no, she was never married.
When she became ill on Sunday, I sat beside her in the emergency room. She was hot and fevered, a bit confused by what the infection she had did to her electrolytes. Such a tiny light woman. Easily moved into the bed, although her hip that has not healed well makes her flinch a bit. As I sat there, I realized how much I love my aunt. Lots of people love her but she is my aunty for real. The bond of love goes back a long way. Back to my own childhood.
I wonder who will be caring for me in another thirty years. I hope they look at me with love.