With love on your 111th Birthday, Aunt Kate

      “You’re wearing a path through my yard. You’ve got to stop that. “ Aunt Kate sternly said as she stopped me in my tracks on the way to second grade.   Her yard was half way between home and school, a path walked almost daily.  Filled with fear and trembling, I said “Yes, ma’m.  I won’t do it again.”  On my way I went, thinking “When is she gone so she won’t catch me again?”
      Aunt Kate was a large woman with a strong voice.  Married to my mother’s brother, Aunt Kate was a solid Christian, the first woman elected to the governing body of her church when women were more silent than heard.  She was my god mother, a role she took seriously.  And she was the woman who most positively influenced me and truly loved me.
      Knowing how crazy my family was, she gave me glimpses of a sane, loving world.  She bought me my first new tennis racket, replacing the hand-me-down racket from Mother’s teen years.   With her I experienced my first airplane ride  -  all the way across the country. We were visiting her grandchildren, cousins who were my age.  On that flight I sat by the window, taking in the scenery, spellbound by huge flat fields, glacier covered mountains and the Grand Canyon.  I don’t think I moved a muscle.
      The entire summer was spent experiencing life in Silicon Valley.   There were strawberries to pick; the chilly very salty Pacific Ocean to wade in; a swimming pool for daily splashing and cousins to hang out with.  I didn’t want to go home.
      Eight weeks at Camp Alleghany in the West Virginia hills were heaven.  Another whole summer away from home was better than good.  Home sick was never in my vocabulary.
      When my parents went away for months, I got to stay with Aunt Kate.  These were the times I got As at school.   The routine was rigid, centered on doing homework and all that makes A students.  She was so authoritarian I didn’t want to know what any consequences were so I always followed her rules and life was good.
      I never really got how special Aunt Kate was until she and Uncle Garland moved to Westminster-Canterbury, where you could live and be cared for ‘til you died.   She wasn’t going to be a burden to her children in declining years, as she experienced taking care of her father in his decline.
      Born in 1900 she delighted in telling every and anyone how old she was.  On her 90th birthday the whole clan, 60 strong, gathered from across the country to honor her.  Many of the nine girls named Katharine after her were there.  My daughter is K8.
      When my marriage ended, I dreaded telling her, fearful she would be disappointed in me.  Again she wanted to provide for me.
      Aunt Kate began to slow down after Uncle Garland passed away.  Soon she gave up leading Stretch-&-Tone for sister residents and her church activities.   Failing health and memory took her to assisted living where she lived in a room with familiar furniture and a hospital bed.
      I took her to see my new home, bought with her blessing.  I dreaded telling her son and the infirmary team that she’d fallen on the stoop and skinned up her shin badly.  Luckily nothing was broken. When I told her son about it, he said she was always klutzy, another little known fact. 
      Faithfully I visited her, noticing each time how much thinner and frailer she was, how  little she asked and how much I loved her.   One visit was unforgettable.  Aunt Kate was sitting in her favorite chair with her half eaten lunch on the tray before her.   When I asked about her meal, she said “I’m waiting for the train to come.   It slows down so I can pass my tray though the window to them and the poor people on board will have something to eat.”  She didn’t mind if I waited with her until the train came.
      After I left, I had to pull the car over and park while I wept with a broken heart.  My precious fairy godmother  Aunt Kate, whom I loved dearly, was gone.  The woman who really, really loved me had been stolen by dementia.