Rest Now

The first memory that flashes to the front of all of the others is set on the living room floor of the house on Indiana. I had carefully placed all of my action figures on the floor across the bottom of the blue couch. I moved gingerly while recovering from a burst appendix. Auntie Ester watched me that week while Dad worked. I probably said something like "Auntie, Watch this!", I took the rubber bands out of my pocket and probably became the only man ever to pick off: Chuck Norris, Rambo and Hulk Hogan at the same time.

Another memory blinked back into my conscious as I relived the previous. Auntie Ester was sitting next to my hospital bed keeping me company while I recovered from having my appendix removed. The IV's were in my right hand and made it painful to draw or color. My Auntie Ester picked up the crayons and asked me what she should draw? We settled on a picture that looked like this; the first two inches at the bottom of the page were brown, (I told Auntie that it was dirt), the next few inches were green for the grass with flowers and the rest was blue sky with a yellow sun. My auntie put the finishing touches on it and said done. I picked up the brown crayon and with my left hand inserted dark squiggles in the dirt, it was all that I could contribute without messing up such a pretty picture. Auntie asked "what are those?" to which I replied "worms!", and she responded "MIJO, "that's nasty!" and we both giggled.

She is an incredibly selfless soul who loved her family and cared deeply for those within her circle. I used the present tense IS on purpose in the last sentence because she IS with us. She is present in a different way now, living instead in our memories and in our hearts and through the retelling of stories.

I know I've been absent from her everyday life for more than 18 years and I have only seen her a dozen days or so over the last decade but despite that, there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about where I came from  and my family that is still there. I am blessed with a  better than average memory, I am thankful that I can remember small moments in great detail because it keeps me close to everyone. It keeps me close to you Auntie.

I remember when we were all sitting at the dinner table after a day of fishing and you told Robert to knock it off when he tried to rain on my excitement about catching the big fish. I can't blame him, I was off playing with sticks when uncle had the fish about reeled in and he was as patient as he could've been before I retold the embellished story for the 49th time. I remember you asking Mimi to look out for me when I tagged along with the big kids, whether it was stickball in the street or skateboarding.

I remember your white blazer and that you had one of the first car phones, it was as big as a car battery. I remember breakfast at McDonalds. I remember meals at Mi Ranchito. I remember meeting you and Dad for lunch at Cancun and showing you the purchase I made at Peck's, the ring that Ashleigh has worn for 9 years. I remember you and Auntie Becky being there when Dad couldn't be, making sure Patrick and I were taken care of.

I remember and I hope I never forget the sound of your voice saying MIJO. I know you're resting in a peaceful place, probably as peaceful as the picture that you drew for me by my hospital bed 27 years ago. Rest now Auntie, I know that I'll see you when I am supposed to. I love you. 

My experiences are new to me; the lessons learned are probably not new to you. Most of the time, I'm just working out what the Silver and Black Lining is.