As my aunt Rubelle aka “Lola” aged, she could never remember whether my birthday was the day before hers or after. Inevitably, I’d call her on the 16th and wish her a happy birthday and she’d ask if she missed my birthday. I’d always tell her it didn’t matter either way, I was calling to honor her. Of course, she’d hang up and call right back the next day to wish me a happy birthday (message on slideshow).
My aunt died back in May from Covid , just months shy of her 90th birthday. I fear I didn’t really get time to mourn her because my mother, who was her sister, was so ill at the time. It wasn’t until days ago that I realized she wouldn’t be calling anymore, threatening to box me in the mouth or pull my lip when I said something snarky like, “didn’t I tell you not to call me back.” Nor, would she tell me to “mind now” when I tried to tell her something she should do. She wouldn’t be asking me to pour a sip of alcohol in her cup at my “birthmas” party while her son wasn’t looking either. I’ll miss all of those things.
A year ago, we shared a piece of cake together with my mom during our birthday week. So, today, on day 16 of my Christmas countdown, I’ll wear my sweet life sweater in honor of her sweet tooth. Lord knows she loved all kinds of treats from bread pudding to cakes and candy. I’ll also reflect on how much sweeter life was before she left and I’ll hold tight to all the sweet memories we shared.
Happy heavenly birthday, Auntie! Rest in Paradise.
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