Someone else's words

When I was looking at quotes on grief, trying to use someone else's words to express what I could not say myself, I found this quote. This Rob Sheffield expresses perfectly how I felt when I got sick and had to 'let go of all sorts of independence I thought I had, independence I had spent years trying to cultivate.'


“I was helpless in trying to return people's kindness, but also helpless to resist it. Kindness is a scarier force than cruelty, that's for sure. Cruelty isn't that hard to understand. I had no trouble comprehending why the phone company wanted to screw me over; they just wanted to steal some money, it was nothing personal. That's the way of the world. It made me mad, but it didn't make me feel stupid. If anything, it flattered my intelligence. Accepting all that kindness, though, made me feel stupid.

Human benevolence is totally unfair. We don't live in a kind or generous world, yet we are kind and generous. We know the universe is out to burn us, and it gets us all the way it got Renee, but we don't burn each other, not always. We are kind people in an unkind world, to paraphrase Wallace Stevens. How do you pretend you don't know about it, after you see it? How do you go back to acting like you don't need it? How do you even the score and walk off a free man? You can't. I found myself forced to let go of all sorts of independence I thought I had, independence I had spent years trying to cultivate. That world was all gone, and now I was a supplicant, dependent on the mercy of other people's psychic hearts.”
― Rob Sheffield, Love is a Mix Tape

Aunt Jean

These are pictures of my Aunt Jean.

She is my mom's younger sister.

She has battled lung cancer and the effects of the cure for the past eighteen months.

She departed this earth yesterday, November 26, 2012.

She was 71 years old.

It is difficult for me to put aunt jean into words.

She knew how to have a good time.

Aunt Jean Having a Good Time!

Michael, myself, Julie, and Aunt Jean
 

Aunt Jean didn't have any children, and my mother had seven. If the above picture were not quite so blurry, you would probably be able to read the fear and/or frustration that comes with having your house taken over by the noise and needs of small children who do not belong to you.  I have a difficult time remembering much about my childhood, but I remember this trip to Florida to visit aunt Jean and uncle Ron. I remember eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on her front porch after an afternoon of swimming. I remember the hunger, that unique hunger that was only experienced in your single digits after hours of swimming. I remember wearing my two piece swimsuit, the green indoor/outdoor carpet under me, eating my sandwich from a paper plate with my tupperware brand plastic cup full of milk. It was pure childhood bliss.

Sister, Sister

 My mother is a year older than her sister. Their houses are across the street from one another. They were two peas in a pod. They would sit on the back porch, of either house but mostly mom's, and they would drink coffee and smoke fags for hours. Then they would drink wine and smoke fags for hours. They talked and shopped and argued and made up and did all the things that sisters and friends do. And then aunt Jean got sick and mom did all the things that sisters shouldn't have to do, but they do out of the deepest love when there arises the deepest need. It's a tough thing to watch from afar when there is nothing you can do to lighten the load. I am impressed with their sisterhood.

Aunt Pat, Aunt Jean, Gail, Nana, Mom & Me

 When I was 13 years old, we moved to Florida, just a few blocks from Aunt Jean. At first it was hard because she wasn't used to kids. We lived with her while mom shopped for a house. But then we all got used to each other. I remember curling her hair with the curling iron. I remember her giving us special chocolates from England, one at a time! She encouraged me to save money. She would say, 'just $20 from each paycheck, save just $20'. And even though I did not save $20 from each paycheck, her voice was always in the back of my head saying 'just $20 from each paycheck'. She was a saver. She worked hard and she saved money. Her money and what she could buy with her money were important to her. Everyone who knew her knew this about her and some would perhaps think it crude to say, but she told me this herself back in April. She wanted her things to go to someone who would appreciate them as much as she did, who understood their worth. She didn't like the idea of someone possessing her things who did not understand their value. I'm not sure what to say about this, as I struggle always to disentangle myself from material items, while at the same time long for pieces of myself and those who came before me to pass down to my daughters. As if my grandmother's china can hold the spirit of my grandmother in a teacup and saucer. Yet, when I hold the teacup in my hands and put it to my lips, knowing that she did this same act, it feels sacred to me. So what is the worth of a housecoat that can feel like a hug from someone who isn't there anymore? What is the value of looking up on the wall and seeing a crucifix that you know someone you loved looked upon every day of their life?

the Butler's way back in the day

 This is aunt Jean's immediate family. Her mum and dad, her two sisters and her younger brother. Don't they all look rather hip? I especially love my mom's look, there on the right. She reminds me of Samantha Steven's twin sister on Bewitched. So beautiful.

Uncle Ron & Aunt Jean

When I see old pictures of Uncle Ron and Aunt Jean, I think they must have led a pretty wild life in their younger days. They are always laughing, smiling, partying it up. Uncle Ron died about 15 years ago. Aunt Jean never even dated again, as far as I know. She lost a little bit of her sunshine when she lost him. After he died, I would dream about him occasionally. I would always tell her about the dream. I think she liked that. It felt like I had a nice visit with him. In the dream, I knew he was dead, but he would just come and tell me he was doing alright, not to worry. It was really nice. I hope I get to see Aunt Jean in my dreams. I hope they are together and they pop over to my dream to tell me they are doing alright...partying it up.

Peace Out
Susan Jean