My Great Aunt Helen died this week at 98, peacefully, clutching her rosary beads. ("Janie," she tells my Grandma, "I don't want to live to be a hundred"). She was the oldest daughter of the Edwards family, a driven woman with a master's degree in library science, a husband nicknamed Heiny, and a dog named Hans. She always tried to push Ruth off the piano when they played duets. She drank half a glass of beer every day at 5:00 and talked about Mary Higgins Clark books with me. I remember her as strong and no-nonsense, a sisterly contrast to my demure Aunt Ruth. But Helen was feisty and fun, and unfettered. She let me sit on her lap, once, when I was too big to do so. Her pride was too big to admit this. "Honey," she said, after several minutes. "Don't feel like you have to sit here all day." She died with her rosary in her hand. My grandma says she's up there bossing everybody around.
Blair Mancini sings Robert Goulet songs in his sleep.
And he shall wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more. 21:4
8.06.2006
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2 comments:
You forgot to make your closing quote the same color as your heading. I hate you. And I am never talking to you again/never reading your blog again.
By the way, you just replaced Nicholas Tonozzi as the closing sentiment on my blog. I was hoping the trend would continue with yours and we would have an unstoppable web of blog unity. It would be legendary
This was lovely. Your great-aunt Helen reminds me of my great-aunt Helen, who had a battery-powered parrot that recorded you and then repeated your words in a funny, warbly voice. Man I got a kick out of that when I was little.
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