My dad called last night to tell me of the passing of my Aunt Carolyn and although it has been a number of years since I have been able to see her, my sister and I immediately made plans to get down there for her service.
She is not the Aunt you just send flowers for and say it's too far to travel. No, not for all she has been to me and all she has done for us. Even if it had been decades and not just years since I had been able to see her.
My Grandma Cooper, her mother, passed when I was very young, 3 or 4 years old. And when she passed, Aunt Carolyn quietly, without fanfare, became the matriarch of that side of the family. She wasn't loud nor bossy nor controlling, but without her, I'm rather certain Dad's side of the family would not have had the gatherings I remember so fondly that lent stability to a split-holiday childhood that comes with divorce. The Thanksgivings and the Easters and the Christmases or just times at her house are memories that mean so much to me, I suppose because my Dad did not remarry for any length of time until I was 23 and so Aunt Carolyn was my female role model when we were with his side of the family.
She did not have a child of her own until Lori and I were 10, but we still had Easter Egg hunts at her home and the best red velvet cake you'll ever eat and wonderfully colorful Jello salads and beautifully, yet simply set tables that we all gathered around for our meals. She made sure, along with my Dad, that we had wonderful kid-friendly holidays to remember. My memories of those meals are simple - perfectly baked ham at Easter, perfectly cooked peas that would pop (in fact, I wouldn't eat peas nor nearly any vegetable as a child, but I did at her house), iced tea in these heavy glass goblets that was simple and unsweetened and she'd make sure to ask us about how we're doing and actually listen while we ate. We knew good manners were expected and it never took a raised voice to get them.
She'd walk with us through her garden or yard, shake her head at her shy cats and her quiet humor was a wonderful foil for my Uncle Brent (her husband)'s humor when he would say things like "don't tilt your head while drinking your milk, it will come out your ear." Her wonderful laugh and "now Brent..." warning would make me laugh. Something about Aunt Carolyn was just pure... safety, for me. Also, she could sew like no one else. In fact, thanks to her, although we had very little money, Lori and I had more clothes for our Barbie dolls than any little girl we knew. Aunt Carolyn could sew the most beautiful, teeny, Barbie clothes. My dolls were dressed for success I tell you. She made dresses and coats and pants and skirts and shawls and wraps unmatched by anything you could find in a store. I adored showing my friends my beautiful Barbie doll clothes.
My mother often said that, although I missed out on my grandma, I got a glimpse of her by getting to have my Aunt Carolyn in my life. Apparently she was a lot like her mom. She was an incredibly strong woman who didn't need to shout it from the rooftops, but just quietly and firmly lived her life. She was a strong woman of faith but had no need to shout that either, nor force it on others, but to live it purely by example and felt no need to loudly judge or contradict, but instead to love. If she ever disagreed with my choices, I wouldn't know, I don't know that she thought it her place to do anything more than love others and live her faith and beliefs by example.
She was a role model for me in many ways... I don't know that she knew that. She is the example I often kept in my head as my kids wanted to carve their own paths, particularly when it came to appearances. Looking at her, one might be shocked to learn she fought for her daughter's right to dye her hair black at her Christian school. Carolyn looked and often acted liked a throw back to another time, like maybe she should have been an adult in the 1940's or 1950's. But she told me once, when I had kids of my own, not sure if I was already struggling or she had a sense I needed to hear it, about how the school said her daughter Shaneen couldn't have black hair because it looked too "goth" or "evil" or something. Well, Carolyn told me she firmly believed that God looked at the inside, not the outside and went straight to the dress code and saw that it allowed natural colors. She argued that black was most certainly a natural color as my mother, of Asian decent, has black hair, many girls at the school had black hair, so her daughter was going to have black hair and if black was evil, why would God allow anyone to be born with it. She won the argument and my cousin got her lovely black hair. And I sat in admiration of my incredibly strong Aunt who didn't make a huge deal of it at the time nor when she told me the story. But in her quiet voice all the Coopers have (Cooper is her maiden name, she is my father's eldest sister) she matter of factly stated that she wasn't going to allow judgement at a school and within a faith that was supposed to teach the exact opposite.
Years ago, she and Brent had thought of leaving California and had talked about Oregon or Idaho. I had selfishly wished for Oregon. I had been up here for so long and sure wouldn't have minded having my Aunt close again. She was easy to talk to, easy to laugh with and kindness personified. They ended up staying in California. In the same familiar house that carries all my lovely memories of her.
Lately my Aunt had gotten sick and unable to see, so the last time I was making travel plans she was unprepared for visitors. It has been too long since I've seen her. But that doesn't change the love and admiration I have for someone who took such great care of us, who was such a center for the family, who helped shape a lot of how I think one lives their faith and integrity.
Rest in peace Aunt Carolyn. Give my love to Grandma, you'll get to see her again.
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