Nikki
So, today is my aunt Nikki's birthday. She would have been 40. It's a big birthday. Of course, my aunt Nikki died 8 1/2 years ago, so she wasn't here to see it, but the rest of my family celebrated.
She had 3 boys, who are now in middle school, and she hasn't seen them grow up. They were (I think) 3 and 4 when she died. They don't remember her, at least not really. They call someone else Mom now.
I don't say that like it's a bad thing; I'm happy that her husband was able to find someone else to love and share his life with. I'm happy that the boys have someone in their life to call Mom. I just think about Nikki, and I get sad for her. For everything she's missed.
My family celebrates (and mourns) Nikki twice a year. Once on her birthday, and once on the anniversary of her death. (deathday?) They go to Mass, mention her at the end of it, go out to brunch and then that night most of them go to the Pub and drink. To Nikki.
(Which, if you think about it, is fairly ironic, considering Nikki wasn't a drinker and I don't think ever set foot in the Pub.)
And every year, I remember her. I remember her laugh, the way she used to tease me and my sister, going to Cinci to spend time with her and Greg and the boys, after they were born. I remember when she used to babysit me and my sister, and when I was older, she once told me that I could never have an abortion - that if I (or any of my friends) got pregnant, she would take care of the kid, as long as we didn't get rid of it.
I remember talking to her about teaching, and how much she loved it. How much she needed to help others. It was a big reason of why I wanted to go into teaching - just listening to her talk about her "kids" and everything that happened at school that day or week.
Every once and a while I'll think about how life would be like if she were still here. How often we'd go down to Cinci - how many times she'd drag Greg and the boys up here - if Mom and I would ever go down to do mini-Baking with her again because she couldn't come up to Columbus.
I think about all the little ways my life might have changed if she hadn't died. Dad once told me that the cracks really started to show with him and Mom when Nikki died. Would they still be unhappy together? How would Nikki have reacted to Mel getting pregnant with Bradley? How would she have helped her?
I think about her, and I miss her, and I wish I could have just one more day, one more hour, to talk to her. To show her who I've become, how I've evolved. I think she would be proud of me. I know she'd be proud of Mel.
I want her to meet Franco. I think she'd (like the rest of my family) love him - possibly a little more than me. I think she'd tell me to keep ahold of this one. He's a keeper.
Happy birthday Nikki
She had 3 boys, who are now in middle school, and she hasn't seen them grow up. They were (I think) 3 and 4 when she died. They don't remember her, at least not really. They call someone else Mom now.
I don't say that like it's a bad thing; I'm happy that her husband was able to find someone else to love and share his life with. I'm happy that the boys have someone in their life to call Mom. I just think about Nikki, and I get sad for her. For everything she's missed.
My family celebrates (and mourns) Nikki twice a year. Once on her birthday, and once on the anniversary of her death. (deathday?) They go to Mass, mention her at the end of it, go out to brunch and then that night most of them go to the Pub and drink. To Nikki.
(Which, if you think about it, is fairly ironic, considering Nikki wasn't a drinker and I don't think ever set foot in the Pub.)
And every year, I remember her. I remember her laugh, the way she used to tease me and my sister, going to Cinci to spend time with her and Greg and the boys, after they were born. I remember when she used to babysit me and my sister, and when I was older, she once told me that I could never have an abortion - that if I (or any of my friends) got pregnant, she would take care of the kid, as long as we didn't get rid of it.
I remember talking to her about teaching, and how much she loved it. How much she needed to help others. It was a big reason of why I wanted to go into teaching - just listening to her talk about her "kids" and everything that happened at school that day or week.
Every once and a while I'll think about how life would be like if she were still here. How often we'd go down to Cinci - how many times she'd drag Greg and the boys up here - if Mom and I would ever go down to do mini-Baking with her again because she couldn't come up to Columbus.
I think about all the little ways my life might have changed if she hadn't died. Dad once told me that the cracks really started to show with him and Mom when Nikki died. Would they still be unhappy together? How would Nikki have reacted to Mel getting pregnant with Bradley? How would she have helped her?
I think about her, and I miss her, and I wish I could have just one more day, one more hour, to talk to her. To show her who I've become, how I've evolved. I think she would be proud of me. I know she'd be proud of Mel.
I want her to meet Franco. I think she'd (like the rest of my family) love him - possibly a little more than me. I think she'd tell me to keep ahold of this one. He's a keeper.
Happy birthday Nikki