My Aunt Edith (L)

My Great Aunt Edith died last week, whe was 100. I never thought I'd use the term "beloved" with sincerity, but she was much beloved by me and my family. Here are some of the words I spoke at her funeral.

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Aunt Edith is finally with Uncle Charlie, it took her body being 100 to finally agree with what her heart wanted for 20 years. We can only be happy that she is where she wants to be. Aunt Edith was the last of her siblings, the last of many of our grandmother and mother's generation. For us, left behind, it is truly the end of an era. A time when tea was a social event, when “muffin day” was a designated day of the week, when unannounced guests were greeted as the welcome highlight to a day, hugged ferociously and dutifully waved goodbye to as they drove away. When if you didn't have anything nice to say, you truly said nothing at all. Aunt Edith kept her house clean in many ways.

What I remember most about Aunt Edith was her sense of fun and adventure, her strength, and independence; her greeting me each time at the door with a “Whyyyyy” as if she couldn’t believe I had come, whether I was visiting from New Jersey, or just down the road and had seen her the day before. I loved the twinkle in her eyes, and the tight squeeze of her hugs.

As a child, she was my great aunt who was always willing to play a game of tether ball or frisbee with any of us, who always had muffins and cookies waiting in case you stopped by, who'd spread on an amazing 4th of july bbq and then stay up in the dark summer night to serve us watermelon on the way home from the fireworks. She was always willing to join us for Walker Park or Islesboro or even the grocery store with a quick” I'll just get my purse”. I learned my childhood love of Aunt Edith from my mother. It was a woman's world at Aunt Edith full of tradition, estrogen, and tea. But as an adult, I discovered a new love and friendship in Aunt Edith. Over the years, she has been to me an aunt, a grandmother, a mother, a best friend, a companion, a co-pilot in many adventures, a grandmother to my children, and a soul friend to me. She was always there when I needed her with welcome arms, a hug for my children, time to spend with me, and hot cup of tea.

I worried when Gwenyvere was born and Aunt Edith was 90, that I was doing something selfish to foster such a close relationship with someone that I knew she would be young when she lost. But I am so grateful for the years my children had to love Aunt Edith. I look at my girls and I see Aunt Edith in them in their poise and manners and love for company and tradition. I see her in sensitivity and stubbornness of my six year old son, who told me this morning (the morning of her funeral), “I’m coming! I want to see her one more time even if she’s not alive anymore”.