Christmas without Auntie Sal
This has been the very first Christmas of my life that Aunt Sally was not a key player. Now, in the past, there have been a few Christmases that we did not specifically spend the day of Christmas with the Rooses- either we were by ourselves or with the other side of the family or such, but we always found a way to meet up with them. Even last year, when my parents came out to Reno to spend Christmas with me because I was on shakes, preparing for my surgery, I think we spent over an hour on the speaker phone talking to various family members, and my very last, Aunt-Sally-selected nativity was hand-delivered by my mom.
Now, please, understand, this is not greediness or ungratefulness. Any gift is welcomed and thankfully received in my world. But I have gotten nativities from my Auntie Sal every single Christmas, and even a few birthdays, for the last 13-15 years. She even made me a pillow once- she actually made it on a pillow, and it doesn't look chintzy.
My Uncle Tom bought me beautiful, wonderful Frank Lloyd Wright placemats. They are of his Waterlillies leaded glass design, a cross-stitch of which I purchased this summer. They are wonderful, and they will look fantastic in my apartment, and each time I see them I will be reminded of the time and love he spent choosing them for me, and I'll remember how special he is to me, and how much we love each other.
But it wasn't a nativity from my Auntie Sally. My second mother, my mentor, and my dear aunt. This was the first event the family's had that I've been around for since she passed away in April. And I still have a lot of guilt issues over not being at her funeral and so forth, despite my parents' and familys' constant reminders that my Auntie Sal would have wanted me to do what I was doing- teaching, changing my life, and losing more and more weight. She would have wanted me to be healthy, and I still remember the conversation we had on if I should move to Nevada and take my kindergarten teaching job. She was very much for it. She encouraged me to try something new, and to spread my wings. And when I did have questions or thoughts, she was always there to give me suggestions or just be understanding.
I miss her. More than I can say, and each time I think it, I think to myself, "I need to pray for Beth, Rob, and Carolyn. Because whatever pain I feel, it must be millions and millions of times worse for them." And my heart breaks for them.
But I miss her. I really, really miss her. What I would give for 15 minutes with her... Or just one more moment to tell her again how special is to me, and how much she influenced my life in the most wonderful ways.
Now, please, understand, this is not greediness or ungratefulness. Any gift is welcomed and thankfully received in my world. But I have gotten nativities from my Auntie Sal every single Christmas, and even a few birthdays, for the last 13-15 years. She even made me a pillow once- she actually made it on a pillow, and it doesn't look chintzy.
My Uncle Tom bought me beautiful, wonderful Frank Lloyd Wright placemats. They are of his Waterlillies leaded glass design, a cross-stitch of which I purchased this summer. They are wonderful, and they will look fantastic in my apartment, and each time I see them I will be reminded of the time and love he spent choosing them for me, and I'll remember how special he is to me, and how much we love each other.
But it wasn't a nativity from my Auntie Sally. My second mother, my mentor, and my dear aunt. This was the first event the family's had that I've been around for since she passed away in April. And I still have a lot of guilt issues over not being at her funeral and so forth, despite my parents' and familys' constant reminders that my Auntie Sal would have wanted me to do what I was doing- teaching, changing my life, and losing more and more weight. She would have wanted me to be healthy, and I still remember the conversation we had on if I should move to Nevada and take my kindergarten teaching job. She was very much for it. She encouraged me to try something new, and to spread my wings. And when I did have questions or thoughts, she was always there to give me suggestions or just be understanding.
I miss her. More than I can say, and each time I think it, I think to myself, "I need to pray for Beth, Rob, and Carolyn. Because whatever pain I feel, it must be millions and millions of times worse for them." And my heart breaks for them.
But I miss her. I really, really miss her. What I would give for 15 minutes with her... Or just one more moment to tell her again how special is to me, and how much she influenced my life in the most wonderful ways.