My Dear Aunt Sheila

I wasn't going to post this yet, because I think that if I have the courage to give a eulogy, this will be it. However, I know that I probably wouldn't be able to actually say this out loud in public. I am far too shy for that. So, here it is. It is ok to comment on this if you want, but don't feel the need to offer sympathies if you don't want to. I know death is a hard subject for people to talk about. Note, I wrote this in my word program, and it always has a hiccup or two when I copy and paste it to my blog. Therefore, I cannot fix the first paragraph because my blog doesn't know what font I used.

My dear aunt Sheila,

As the first born grandchild, I got all of the attention in the family for the first three years. I do not remember it, but for those first three years, you were there whenever my mom needed a babysitter, for work or for errands. I grew up knowing you as well as I knew my mom.

You taught me things I don’t remember, but still know, such as how to tap a keg, fill a cup, and bring it to you and your boyfriend at the time. I know you loved to play with me, and often took me with you. I do remember being in a car with you when I was about four or five years old. I remember us talking and joking.

I also remember being about 6 or 7, and you babysitting me at grandma’s house. You had just introduced me to Dave, and I remember thinking he was funny and fun to be around. That pretty much sums up how I feel to this day.

Going to visit you and Dave was always entertaining for me, and allowed me to be on hand to babysit for you when Samantha and Travis needed a sitter. I had a blast watching them grow up, and after you and Dave came home, I got to be part of the conversation. You always listened to me, and took what I had to say seriously.

My mom finally told me what it was about you that made me feel totally accepted by you; you never judged. It’s true, you accepted and loved everyone. I do not recall anyone you expressed hate or even dislike for, though I’m sure there had to be someone.

At a wedding we both attended, you asked me where my mom was, and I told you that she didn’t feel comfortable coming. Your response was, “That’s silly, even if she showed up naked, we wouldn’t care, we’d still love her.” What you really meant was that you wouldn’t care, and would love her no matter what, because that’s who you were.

Whenever I was growing into my many eccentricities, I was never afraid to come to you and tell you about them. You listened to me, told me what you thought, and then hugged me and told me you still loved me no matter what.

You always made me feel special. I honestly don’t think I can say that about anyone else. If I needed you, you were there. I felt like we were kindred spirits.

When I heard that you were in the hospital this last time, I was surprised because my intuition has gotten better over the years, and usually I know when something is wrong. That night, you came to me and told me that everything was ok, and I knew that you would either recover, or that you knew it was your time to go, and were at peace with it. You continued to come to me at night, and talk. I don’t know what you said, because I am not that good yet, but I could feel you, and I knew that the whispers I was hearing came from you. I could feel your peace, and I knew you did not want me of all people to be sad.

To me, death is not a tragedy, it is simply the next step in life. I have talked about life’s plan and life lessons to just about everyone I have ever met, and so most people know that I believe that a soul chooses lessons it needs to learn before it is born, and that the lessons chosen become a plan that guides how your life will go. The plan can be changed, but the lessons usually remain the same.

What I have not talked about as much is that some of the lessons a soul signs up for are not for them, they are lessons they agree to teach others. I know that you signed up to teach a lot to others, and you managed to do so in a beautiful and loving way.

Now that it is the end of this phase of your life, and you are about to move onto the next phase, I am filled with certainty that this is all a part of your plan. You needed to go through this to learn some lessons, and more importantly to teach lessons to those you love. I understand, and I do not feel sad. This is the first time I have cried, and it’s because I know I will never be able to hug you again. I am not sad for you; you get to move onto the afterlife you believe in. I’m pretty sure you believe in heaven, so there’s where you are going to go.

No, I am sad for me, because I am going to have to live the rest of my life feeling your presence but never touching you. I prayed that you would stay a few more years. I dreamed that you would still be here when Samantha gets married and has babies. Travis too. I know how much you love babies. I also know that you will be there on those momentous occasions, but I don’t know if anyone is going to feel you other than me.

My dear aunt, I love you, and I know you love me. That is why it is so hard to let you go, but if this really is your time to go, then I wish you peace. Thank you for being a part of my life, and letting me get to know the wonderful person you are. Have fun in your next life, and try to keep in touch.