Family, Death and a Wish

Family, Death and a Wish

I'm a baby boomer, born in 1955. One of the lucky bunch of boomers who were raised in a loving home, by parents who were married 50 plus years. My Daddy was a farmer, successful for the time. My maternal grandparents were also farmers and custom combiners, as were Aunt T and Uncle K. 

I was raised in the country, one quarter of a mile each way from my Grandparents, Aunt, Uncle and four cousins. I also had a beloved Aunt J, whom I'm named for, who lived in the Big City, 30 miles away, with my favorite Cousin P. Close family ties doesn't begin to describe our family. Holidays were spent together always, loving was big, as were spankings when a wayward child needed one.  We cousins always played with each other because the country road was our neighborhood, there were no others. 

We all learned to drive at young ages, driving grain trucks and pickup trucks up and down the turn rows. Playing hide and seek in cotton seed bins, riding ol Red Eye palomino around the farm. FAMILY, Family, family.

Then My Grandmommie died. She was 65. My Mother, who was the oldest of three sisters, found her. It seemed she had just laid down for a nap and never woke up. My Mother was devastated. Aunt J was devastated. Aunt T was devastated. Our FAMILY  was broken. 

My Mother was convinced she would also die at 65, just like Grandmommie. Why, I never learned. But she didn't. 

My Mother lived another thirteen years past age 65. At Christmastime. She died. She didn't just lay down to take a nap. My Daddy was devastated. Aunt J was devastated. Aunt T was devastated. I was devastated.  Our Family was broken some more. 

My Aunt J, whom I love without condition, was a pioneer. She moved away from the Big City to an even bigger  BIG CITY.  Twelve hundred miles away. She and Cousin P. Away from the Family. I moved there, too,  for part of my life. Maybe I was a pioneer, too. Moving away. Leaving from Family.

My beloved Aunt J lived another fifteen years past age 65.  After Christmastime. She died. She didn't just lay down to take a nap. Cousin P was devastated. Aunt T was devastated. I was devastated. Our family is dying.

My sweet Aunt T. She has lost her mother, her Sisters. She is sick. She is lonely. She is sad. She has a wish. She wishes she could just lay down and take a nap forever. 

I am devastated.