Tuesday, November 29, 2016

Still not yet dec 2016

Hey girlies,

Your Auntie Mary died yesterday.  I found out today at 11am.

I loved her and miss her.  She was one of my favorite people.  I liked her person.  She was alive and engaging.  She was fun.  She was opinionated.  She was a stronger person.

You had several Thanksgivings or Easters with her.  You likely don't remember her.

Here is one of the things that was too soon for you, you weren't mature enough to participate and that is a loss.  (link to "the big girls red")

I know that she was new-agey later in life.  I hope she knew God.  I wonder if I should have prayed more for her while she was alive.  Maybe she loved God for a window of time while growing up.  I hope she knew God.

She doesn't want a funeral, or such.  I know that from when Frank (her husband) died.  We talked after.  She didn't want the crazy. 

She died alone.  She died awake.  She was up when whatever happened, happened.  She didn't make it to work.  Coworkers stopped by to check on her after work and found ... her body.

I'm sad.  I'm more than an 8th the way around the world, and one of the few people in my economy is gone.  I will miss her.

 I was reading some emails from Mary and found some of her fondest memories of her father:

 Other memories:
  • When I was a little girl 7 or 8, he taught me my prayers that I had to learn for first communion.  Later, when I was about 13 and being confirmed (at that point you're considered an adult in the eyes of the Catholic Church), he was the one who came to the ceremony at the church.
  • When I was at college, he came to surprize me.  I was in a classroom painting and he called and spoke to the professor I was working for.  He said to her "I'd like to speak to 'my little Mary.'"  I was mortified when she told me, but I felt the affection.
  • He cried at my wedding.
  • When I called my parents to tell them Frank and I were getting married, my mom said cynically, "Are we the last to  know? Are you pregnant?" (The answer was no to both) My dad got on the phone right after she said that and when I told him, he said, "That's wonderful! When?  What do you want us to do?" and he sounded so proud and happy.
 I take that she cherished the first memory to be that at one point God and faith were paramount to her, and that my grandpa helped her with that.  I think it is redemptive.

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