As children we dreaded a visit from Aunt Izzy. Although she was one of our favorite aunts, she had big squishy lips. No matter how we tried to avoid those lips, she always planted a kiss on each kid’s cheek or forehead … or lips! We learned that when we greeted Izzy, we should just get it over with. After that it was easy to talk to her. She always listened and asked questions, and was never, ever shocked.
The last time I saw Izzy she was 90 years old. She still lived alone in a little apartment. She was unable to lean in to plant one of her famous kisses, but she tried to hold my head between her hands. It felt as if a butterfly had landed on my cheek.
“I’ve been so hungry for you!” she said with a broad smile that made her pale blue eyes disappear under soft wrinkles. She told me that she loved getting older because there was something new to learn and discover every day.
It was a defining moment of my life.
Lenny and I both come from large families, and lately we’ve been saying goodbye to more and more of our aunts and uncles. Lenny lost his Uncle Fritz last week, and his Aunt Yolanda had a small stroke. Aunt Sue needs surgery. Aunt Josie and Uncle Ed have stopped calling us, and I’m hoping they will remember us next time we see them. My Uncle Walt just returned home from a week in the hospital.
It’s a privilege to honor our dear ones as they take leave of us, but I often feel a sense of panic when they die. My mom passed away quite unexpectedly just before her 70th birthday. I was only 34, and didn’t realize how much there was that I wanted to ask her. How I wish I had taken video of her telling stories about her early life, and asked questions about raising boys.
Fortunately my dad had an extraordinary memory, and was able to fill in some blanks for me. For the next 14 years, Dad talked, and talked, and talked with his kids. I have legal pads scrawled with his boxy handwriting, filled with details that he wanted me to remember.
He agreed to let us take video of him looking through the oldest photo albums, naming names and explaining relationships. We even have a video of him giving a tour of his beloved Butte, Mont.
The only way to do avoid the panic that I feel when one of our elders dies is to spend as much time as possible with them. I’m hoping that Lenny and I will be able to visit most of our parents’ surviving siblings sometime this summer. I’m hungry for them!
Patty Luzzi has lived on the Eastside for 33 years. Readers can contact her at pattyluzzi@yahoo.com.
