My Aunty Gwen
Aunty Gwen (Aunty Gwennie) was the older sister of my mom - and while my mom was more of a "working mom," she was the ultimate house mom. Uncle David and she used to have a dairy farm. Every morning, Uncle David would get up really early to milk the cows. When I visited, I'd be sitting at the back of the round table in the kitchen eating breakfast, and he'd come sliding up in his woolen socks, his feet making a zipping sound along the plastic ribbed runner through the dining room, ease down onto chair by the entrance, and breath out a good morning.
Aunty Gwen would go up to him and give him a kiss on the forehead then prepare his porridge. She was round faced and nicely plump, she always had a cheery apron on, her hair was permed in curls as it changed from brown to white and she was always smiling, always giving hugs. She loved sewing and she would sew everything from pretty little dresses for her kids dolls - which soon became her nieces' and granddaughters' dolls - to clothing to fit the girls that played with them and the women that resulted. Uncle David made all the wooden toys for the kids - they had 4 girls and 1 boy. I especially remember a big doll house with all the furniture, padded and decorate by Aunty Gwen.
She was proud of the TV dinners she prepared and froze for Uncle David so he could heat up a meal when she was away. I have her casserole recipe which I use quite regularly for leftover chicken.
I spent many summers there - I think we went back to Canada every two years or so while I was little and still an only child. I picked blackberries in the field, plucked cherries from the tree next to the farmstead, stole peas from Aunty Gwen's garden, helped her string the beans and can, jelly and jam veges and fruits, played with little kittens born in the hay barn and in the huge toy closet that had the countless toys Aunty Gwen and Uncle David had made or got for their children, and otherwise had a fabulous time. Through it all was the warm bosom to get smooshed by, the giggly voice so like my mom's and yet not so boisterous, the warm hand on mine as she imparted wisdom - her loving presence. Many a night I spent in her kitchen eating digestive cookies from a tin can and fresh milk before going to bed. Evenings were spent curled up with Uncle David (who always smelled like the barn, no matter how washed up he was!) on his reclining chair, reading Reader's Digest together or talking about the day.
After Uncle David retired, they moved to a quiet neighborhood and Aunty Gwen continued to keep active, doing things that she loved. Maybe it was after this that she started writing the family histories of her mother and father, as well as Uncle David's family. I have two thick books that contain all the research she did, actually taking the trip to England and to Whales to check family records and meet any relatives that she could. She was a good writer. She noticed with delight all the little antics of her grandchildren and shared the joy in her letters. I visited her with Alex and then with Alex and Julian when they were still in preschool but she never got to see them grow up.
*Edit* Alex and Julian have both told me they met her while on their trips to Canada respectively, at around 14 years old. I am soooo glad to hear this!
Uncle David passed due to Parkinson's over ten years ago and Aunty Gwen has continued to be that pillar to which her family and friends were drawn. She continued to write me of all the interesting people and things she had been doing, despite my inability to write her anything interesting in return.
In the years that my mom has been on her own, they spent a lot of time together. I am so grateful to her for having my mom over on the weekends and spending that time together. I know that my mom is going to miss her so very much.
I wish I could have gone back to spend more time with her. I wish I could have introduced her to grown up Alex and Julian and to Audrey whom she never got to meet. I wish I could have given them the opportunity to experience that squishy hug, that smile and warmth.
My cousin said that her last words to them before she could speak no more was "I wish I could go to Heaven... it would be so wonderful."
Now she is. I am glad she didn't have to suffer long. I will miss her.