Her Birthday in Heaven

When I was living in Lubbock and working at a church nursery, I met a great lady who took wonderful pictures and raised sweet children. I bartered babysitting services for family pictures. I am so grateful that Joey took me up on that offer. It will forever be one of my best memories with these five women. My aunt had recently beat cancer and decided to come back as a fierce red head. I still remember walking around Lubbock, taking pictures in various groups and poses. I should have stopped for just a second and realized it was one of those so good moments it almost hurts. I should have realized that the moment would not be duplicated again. Instead, I look at this picture that is enlarged on a canvas over my desk, and I am grateful.

Tomorrow is my aunt's birthday. In years past, my mom, sister, and I would get together and call her to sing, off key. It was tradition. Everyone always lies and says how nice it sounds. The next time we were all at Grandma's house, we would have a cookie cake with lots of icing for her. Another tradition.

I have always told Gunner that Aunt Peggy was the red headed angel that held him before we held him.  The one that sang him Happy Birthday on the day he was born. I show him pictures now and we talk about her. The way she made the best Mexican food, except for the guacamole. She tried for years to convince me that it was good stuff. I could eat it with a spoon now.

I have so many memories of her. At her house or Grandma's. Typically in the kitchen though. She always brought cookies with her. And I do not mean the store bought kind. They were handmade. And there were TONS of them. She made these amazing ones that were just two Ritz crackers covered in Almond Bark. My sister and I loved them. My most vivid memory of her in the kitchen though is the time she told us she had tests done and the cancer was back. We were in the kitchen at my parents' old house on Austin Street. It was Easter, I'm pretty sure. She could have been telling us that it might rain the next day. I was facing the cabinets reaching for something when she said it. I paused before I turned to face everyone. Afraid of making it real. So naive. Grandma was mad that she had just told. I'm sure Peggy knew that was coming. Ha. I do not remember the rest of the conversation with as much detail but I will never forget that feeling of watching so many people that I loved face the unknown… the one with the most to fear, standing on the most faith.

One of the best words to describe her in my life is present. I have tons of pictures to prove it. Me with my boy haircut sitting on her shoulders at some random tourist trap. Sitting on a bed on a girls vacation with my sister and two cousins. I am forever grateful that her and my mom made a true effort to stay close. It has shaped the person I am today and the way I want to raise my child. On more than one occasion, I went and stayed at their house. We would do sewing projects. I would instantaneously get frustrated with the bobbin or another part of the process. She would patiently fix it so I could continue on.

While my cousins were in junior high and high school, they lived in Jayton (which was pretty close to Lubbock for West Texas standards). When she came to buy groceries, she would take me out for lunch. During a time that I felt lost and angry, she took me to lunch at Fazoli's and she listened to me. She let me say things without judgment. As far as I know, she never told anyone about our conversations, especially those that I felt so hurt by. It meant I could be totally transparent. It started the healing process for me.

Recently, I had a dream. We were all at Grandma's house visiting but she was my age. She is the image that I have seen in the photographs from years past. This tanned blonde with 6 foot long legs. She did her laugh that I missed so much. The head back, long laugh. It was perfection. I had seen it so many times when her and my mom were thinking of captions for the family reunion scrapbook. They truly thought they were hilarious! They would start crying from all the laughter and this went on for hours. What a blessed memory.

Since she has passed, I have ventured down a new path. One that makes me feel truly like an adult. Having to watch those same people who stood in the kitchen on Austin Street, now with one less, forced to deal with the process of missing her. Praying for the faith that she stood on. Some days, I feel like I have made progress on this path. Some days, I have to cry lots of tears, like when I try to delete her number from my phone. Some days, it feels like forever since I gave her the last hug. Some days, it feels like yesterday. Some days, I forget and count her in for Thanksgiving dinner and I start the process over again.

I am forever grateful that she was my mom's big sister, my grandma's first born, a wife and mom, a teacher to hundreds of kids, a friend to everyone, a cook and seamstress. The lessons that she taught of life and laughter, of fighting and faith, of good Mexican food are forever etched into my heart. I am forever grateful.