My aunt lived in Iowa. I recently traveled to my nephew’s graduation in Indiana, stopping at my parents in Iowa on the way through – going both directions. Due to some Divine planning, I had the opportunity to attend my aunt’s funeral on our return trip.
Funerals tend to strip away the superfluous of life and provide great opportunity to focus on what is most important. Let me share what impacted me about my aunt’s life.
A life lived “quietly” impacts others significantly.
From my perspective, my aunt lived life “quietly”, yet boldly. She took care of my grandparents as they got older and needed more care. She faced life’s challenges, especially in the past year, with an acceptance and made ‘bold’ decisions to move into the next season of life. May I do the same as I move through life’s seasons.
A life lived with perseverance leaves a legacy.
My aunt lived with health issues most of her life. At 11 years of age, she had two lung surgeries. Parts of both lungs were removed, leaving her with partial lung capacity the rest of her life. Yet, she never wanted to be ‘a bother’ to her parents or to those around her. In fact, I didn’t know the extent of this till I attended her funeral. I knew she had less lung capacity than most, but I wasn’t aware how long she had lived with it.
Friends and family ease the loss.
We spent the hour before my aunt’s funeral with extended family – aunts, uncles and cousins. That hour was the highlight of the funeral. And, I believe that is what my aunt would have wanted. Visiting with many of them, some I hadn’t seen for years, brought security and a stability to all of us during a time of mourning and a time of celebration. We know our aunt is in a better place and is now breathing fully for the first time in many, many years.
There was something else I learned at my aunt’s funeral. Funerals are also a great place to learn more about ourselves. What I learned about me is—I am a ‘recovering’ aunt.
This was the first funeral I attended since my nephew’s funeral a year and a half ago. My nephew, Carey, was killed in a car accident at 22 years of age. I wasn’t prepared for the emotions that came up at my aunt’s funeral that were residual from my nephew’s funeral. Once again, I was reminded that the grief journey is just that…a journey. A journey that is as unique as each person on the face of earth. A journey that suddenly exposes itself when you least expect it or want it to. Yet, when it does, those emotions seem as real and as fresh as the first time. Yet as time passes, it does get easier – or at least there are longer moments of where it seems easier. For that, I am very grateful.
Aunt Lorene, thank you for the life you lived. Thank you for the legacy you passed on to your nieces and nephews.
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