My Auntie Laura was laid to rest on Sunday.
I recall my last visit with her and the pain and suffering so evident on her face and in her voice. She appeared the picture of human misery. My mother cried to see her agony but ever optimistic she was still was hoping things might turn around.
I remember the call from Jenny telling us she had died that Saturday evening around 6 pm. I couldn't bear to tell my mother so I let my cousin speak to her then tried to console her as best I could as I watched the grief overtake her.
We attended the visitation on Friday evening at 3 pm and the turnout was far more than I expected. Actually, I didn't know what to expect.
I grieved too for my Uncle who was as always — stoic — visiting with attendees there and going it alone after all these years.
It all was reminiscent of the sad poem Lament by Edna St Vincent Millay I studied in literature in Mrs Robinson's class at Horace O'Bryant Junior High as a child.
Her funeral service was held at the church she attended for as along as I can remember. She was returned to the earth shortly thereafter at a cemetery close to her home in that locale she frequented during her life time with military honors.
While it is so very sad to note that all she was is lost to us left here upon the earth at least we know she no longer suffers so profoundly from the inadequate care she received from a nurse practitioner in whom she instilled her trust.
A seamstress, master gardener who could grow anything, gourmet cook, baker extraordinare, talented artist, keeper of records and details, and handler of infinite minutia that always made a difference — she will be missed by me and all the others who love her and now have only our memories to sustain us.
It is a difficult matter to lose someone who has always been there for you over the ensuing years — someone who gave of themself and their many talents unconditionally. Someone who loved you and for whom you returned that love.
It's a very sad time in our family. Rest in peace Auntie Laura.