Teta Erna
Gentle Readers,
Just over an hour ago I found out that my Teta (aunt) Erna died. She was 98. A couple of hours before that we had spoken with her daughter who was on her way back over to Erna's to help with the evening activities and what she felt was the short time left. Erna had been sick for some time and the last couple of months had been pretty bad with her losing strength and starting that final slow fade.
We got to go and see her one last time about a month ago, while my parents were up visiting. We hadn't seen her since her birthday party and she was so faded since then; a shadow propped up by an indomitable spine of iron will. She had just sent a gift to Lydia who had just gotten over Pneumonia. We stopped in to see her on our way to something else so that Lydia could say thank you. We got to hug her and tell her we loved her and I think I'm very happy with the last things I was able to say to her.
She has been the matriarch on my fathers side for a long as I could remember. My grandmother died before I had integrated her into my life. Teta Erna was the person who filled that role. She was the woman who represented the history of my father's side of the family.
Once or twice a year, usually christmas and over the summer we would make the trek to see my father's family in Ottawa and my Mom's in Peterborough. Teta Erna's was where we would stay in Ottawa and she was who greeted us no matter what time we arrived, usually with food waiting. Sometimes it was Beef Stroganoff, sometimes it was Cabbage Rolls. Always there were the rolls (the best ones had bacon in them).
When I moved to Ottawa in 1996, she was a touchpoint for me, and I remember often making the trek her house in Orleans for dinner and family time. Sometimes she let me help cook.
At some point I should write about her story, but right now I need to think about her place in my story. She was a force to be recconed with. She was an Aunt in the Wodehouse tradidion. Strong, but never grim she shared her love for life with me. Living alone at 98, mostly caring for her self.
I'm tired and rambling now so you're getting kind of a stream of consciousness as I try to think about what I would say. I'm trying to think about what the one memory would be to just be her, to fix in my mind as something that is her essence. I'm not sure what that is. Right now, I think it's the joy that lit up her face whenever she saw Lydia.
For now I'm going to hang on to that.
RIP Teta Erna. The world was a better place for your having been in it. I'll miss you very much.
Just over an hour ago I found out that my Teta (aunt) Erna died. She was 98. A couple of hours before that we had spoken with her daughter who was on her way back over to Erna's to help with the evening activities and what she felt was the short time left. Erna had been sick for some time and the last couple of months had been pretty bad with her losing strength and starting that final slow fade.
We got to go and see her one last time about a month ago, while my parents were up visiting. We hadn't seen her since her birthday party and she was so faded since then; a shadow propped up by an indomitable spine of iron will. She had just sent a gift to Lydia who had just gotten over Pneumonia. We stopped in to see her on our way to something else so that Lydia could say thank you. We got to hug her and tell her we loved her and I think I'm very happy with the last things I was able to say to her.
She has been the matriarch on my fathers side for a long as I could remember. My grandmother died before I had integrated her into my life. Teta Erna was the person who filled that role. She was the woman who represented the history of my father's side of the family.
Once or twice a year, usually christmas and over the summer we would make the trek to see my father's family in Ottawa and my Mom's in Peterborough. Teta Erna's was where we would stay in Ottawa and she was who greeted us no matter what time we arrived, usually with food waiting. Sometimes it was Beef Stroganoff, sometimes it was Cabbage Rolls. Always there were the rolls (the best ones had bacon in them).
When I moved to Ottawa in 1996, she was a touchpoint for me, and I remember often making the trek her house in Orleans for dinner and family time. Sometimes she let me help cook.
At some point I should write about her story, but right now I need to think about her place in my story. She was a force to be recconed with. She was an Aunt in the Wodehouse tradidion. Strong, but never grim she shared her love for life with me. Living alone at 98, mostly caring for her self.
I'm tired and rambling now so you're getting kind of a stream of consciousness as I try to think about what I would say. I'm trying to think about what the one memory would be to just be her, to fix in my mind as something that is her essence. I'm not sure what that is. Right now, I think it's the joy that lit up her face whenever she saw Lydia.
For now I'm going to hang on to that.
RIP Teta Erna. The world was a better place for your having been in it. I'll miss you very much.