Five years ago today my Aunt Eileen left this world for a far better one.
Knowing that I will see her again is one of the reasons I am unafraid to go when God calls me home.
I had the privilege to honor my beloved Aunt and Godmother at the celebration of her journey into heaven.
I am grateful to her daughters, my beautiful cousins Anne Marie and Catherine, for the privilege.
My words pale in comparison to the woman that she was. This was my small tribute:
On Wednesday night, Anne Marie and Catherine faced the most difficult decision any person would ever have to make.
They were faced with the reality that their mom would take leave of the world. And they made the decision to allow her to go with a courage and grace most rare and quite beautiful. The most obvious gifts of their beautiful mother. They came quickly to their decision of mercy for her tired and weary body and soul.
Once they made the very difficult decision to disconnect Aunt Eileen from the machines which were binding her to the world, they faced another incredibly difficult decision: What to do with the growing crowd of family and friends milling about the hospital trying to come to terms with their own impending loss and breaking hearts.
The girls made their next brave decision:
To ask the people who loved their mom, to bid her farewell and allow them to honor the moment of her passing in private, quiet dignity. As one of the broken-hearted souls who wanted this not to be the last I would see of the woman I loved so much and whom had brightened my world in so many ways, I wanted not to go. I wanted to savor every last second that I could with the most loving person that I had ever known.
The problem, was that so did everyone else in the room.
What a glorious dilemma: What to do with the too many people who want not to let go of an angel?
What is it that makes so many people feel so incredibly connected to this beautiful woman?
The answer is that Aunt Eileen had an incredible gift. She had an almost supernatural ability to make every person she ever met feel like they were the most important person in the world. That whatever was going on in their lives was the most important thing there was.
She remembered the little details. When she called (which she always did) she didn’t ask “How are you?” or “How are the kids?”
She asked “Did Rachel get everything she needed for her dorm room at Tulane?”
“What time is Tim’s flight to Cameroon on Tuesday?”
“Did James get that job he applied for at The Gap?”
“Did Allison get a dress for the Confirmation yet?”
“What did the endocrinologist have to say about Kimberly?” (Of course, she didn’t say endocrinologist….she actually knew the doctor’s name.)
She remembered the details. The little things were important. You were important enough to her for her to remember what was important to you.
And then she would matter-of-factly slip in what was going on in everyone else’s life….
“I was just talking to Fran. They’re driving out to Kelly’s White Coat ceremony at Drexel.”
Getting in all the details…….
Reminding us that everyone else was important too.
And then those of us slow on the uptake would finally get around to asking her “How about you Aunt Eileen? And the Girls? How are you all doing?” And she’d try not to sound too boastful while she shared how proud she was of Catherine and her own White Coat; and Anne Marie, the image of quiet strength and beauty who could only be Aunt Eileen’s daughter.
She spoke with timid pride of the angels who have tended to their mom and our beloved aunt and sister and friend with the tenderness and heart which they learned so beautifully from her.
She stayed in touch with everyone:
“Hey Aunt Eileen, you wanna do lunch?”
Well, sure, but Little Burt is in town and I’m meeting him and his Dad in Brewster before he goes back to Chicago to start his new job so we’ll go there for lunch.”
And while you were at one of these impromptu get-togethers she’d subtly organized to keep people in touch with one another, and before sneaking out with Carol or Fran for a cigarette, she’d sneak over to the cashier and pick up the check.
On her postal worker salary.
No one will ever figure out how she did that. The math of her generosity just didn’t work. But she did it anyway. And that’s what made it work.
Not just the money, but the time.
The time to have the birthday cards & Christmas presents and phone calls….all taken care of.
She saw the good in everyone and everything.
There was no complaining to Aunt Eileen. I tried:
“Aunt Eileen, the twins just took a whole bottle of pancake syrup and squirted it all over the living room rug.” She would just laugh and say “Oh Anne Marie! That’s hilarious! Enjoy every minute of it!”
She taught us to see what was good. To love where we were. Not to waste time on what didn’t matter but to see that what was happening is what did matter and that we could find the grace in everything we faced if only we would seek it.
She changed the way we saw the world.
While she was in the hospital fighting for her life, she called her cousin Joseph to ask him to check on her blind brother Burton.
And in between calls from the hospital to check on everyone else, she followed doctor’s orders to get a little exercise.
She would grab her IV pole, unplug it, and march it around the ward. (When she was on a mission, Aunt Eileen marched, head first, elbows bent, heel to toe, [in comfortable shoes] she took care of business.)
And so the Mayor of the Ward, as she affectionately came to be known, took her heart and her IV pole and made the rounds, stopping to check on every person, who’s name and condition of course she’d made the point to learn, asking them or their family members how they were doing. Letting each of them know, that they too were the most important person in the world.
Aunt Eileen was too busy loving people to entertain complaints. She was busy calling, visiting and marching us around the hospital, reminding us to be kind and be happy and attentive to one another by simply showing us how it was done. She spent her life putting the rest of the world to shame in comparison to her boundless heart and energy and kindness.
Aunt Eileen has taught us well. Our lesson is complete. It’s graduation day. It is her turn to rest. And our time to thank her by sharing her lessons with the rest of the world.
I LOVE you Aunt Eileen. More than words can ever say.
I still miss you every day.
Until we meet again. 🙏♥️
Anne On The Issues 