Gloria Ferris

I could say that today I lost my favorite aunt.  Or, I could say that I lost my favorite aunt in November.  Or I could say that I lost my favorite aunt January 3rd, 1999.  Or, I could say that I have two favorite aunts still with me.   You see each and every one of my aunts is my favorite because each one in her own way reminds me of my mother who left this world in 1990.

Today is my favorite Aunt Janice’s day.   She died late this afternoon when her family realized that she would not recover from the severe injuries she received in a car accident yesterday.  I have had the opportunity to talk to Aunt Janice once each week since I came home from the hospital in January.  She has faithfully called me to see how I am doing and to chat for an hour.  Now, this  in and of itself is an unusual event, my aunt is not a chatterer, but for the last six months she has changed her pattern.

We had many interesting talks about many things.  Recently, she was very concerned about her incredible back pain.  I asked her if she had told her doctors about her polio.  Silence—“no, I don’t believe I have.  I’m all better they don’t need to know that”.  I then tell her that my mom said that she just wished her doctor would listen to her that sometimes she felt like she had polio all over again.  Aunt Janice told me that she just really didn’t remember anything about polio because she was so young when she had it.  I told her that it certainly could be important to her medical history, and she should tell.  But. that was my Aunt Janice when it was over it was over, and wasn’t important any more. 

Another conversation we had was about my stay in the hospital and how hard it was for her to see me hooked up to so many I-Vs and machines.  She then told me that she hoped I understood what she was going to say.  She told me that she wanted to be as lucky as her sister Virginia and die like she did.  My mother died in a chair with a tall glass of ice water at her side after she had spent the morning running errands,  talking to her friends.  Aunt Janice  just about did it except her leaving was a bit more dramatic and a bit more tragic.  But no less sudden. 

These past few weeks my aunt had related that she was worried about her sisters, her brothers, me, her family.  I told her that she shouldn’t worry about any of us that she needed to take care of herself and then, we would all be fine.   Her sign off to me was always the same.   “Be good.  I’ll talk to you soon”.  At the end of our last conversation, her sign off change, she said “I love you”.

I love you, too, Aunt Janice.