Another Good-bye

This is one of the most beautiful photographs I have ever seen. It's the wedding photo of my dad's parents (in whose house we now live). I never knew my grandfather (but oh, how I wish I did!) but my grandmother was a big part of my life until the young age of 8, when she passed away. 27 years later, I still miss her, and now even more so, as I have taken up residence in her house.

Yet this post isn't about my grandparents. Rather, it's about the young maid-of-honor in the photograph, standing behind my grandmother in glorious 1920's garb, my grandmother's sister Ethel -- affectionately known as "Auntie" or "Aunt Effie." Since my grandmother held such a special place in my heart, and since I lost her at such a young and impressionable age, my great-aunt too became very, very dear to me. While it's a mite difficult to see here, later in life they looked very much alike. When I couldn't look at my grandmother anymore, I found comfort in looking at my aunt, a tie of some kind. I loved my Aunt Effie dearly.

Interestingly, this home in which we now live housed many generations of my family, both upstairs and down. While my grandparents and my teenage father lived downstairs (his two older brother married and on their own), Aunt Effie and her family lived upstairs, moving out when my own parents married and took up residence upstairs. My Uncle Mart, her husband and the Best Man in the picture, died when I was in college, and while I recall feeling a sadness for that loss, I never had much of a connection with him. It was my great-aunt, my grandmother's sister, with whom I felt connected. When her daughter and husband moved to Michigan several years ago she went with them. I only saw her once then, about seven years ago, on the way home from a road trip to see my brother and his family in the Midwest. Little did I know that would be the last time I would see her.

I received word this morning that my dear Aunt Effie passed away at the glorious age of 100. Her health had deteriorated rapidly; her sustenance consisted of 1/3 cup of milk per day, then mere drops of water. There doesn't need to be great sadness when a woman departs this earth after 100 years of life, and yet ... I'm sad today. I have never handled loss well of any kind, but the loss of a loved one is heart-breaking -- even of someone who was more than ready to go. And it's sad to see the faces of the photograph disappearing one by one, a generation now gone. There is no life anymore in those black-and-white pictures, just stories and memories.

She's coming home to be buried later this week. I'll get to see her one last time, but not in the way I would have liked. But at least I will be able to say good-bye.