My aunt “Jane” is the older sister of my father. For most of Jane’s married life she and “Al” lived in California, but due to failing health, not quite two years ago they moved here to Kansas to be near the rest of the family. Jane and Al never had children, so her brother, we nieces, and so on, have been helping out.
Jane is now in hospice care, and Al is in a nursing home. After the first of the year their house will be sold. Jane collected beautiful things, china figures of angels, cut glass serving pieces, Franciscanware, and so on. Now some of those treasures are going to the family, and today she had out all the cut glass, and had designated certain items for each of us, with extra pieces we could ask for. A cousin was supervising, as she is experienced in antique dealing and art fixtures. Jane just sat back(she had made the effort to be there and it was wearing on her) and reminicsed about the history of the items.
I loved it all, and got seven lovely pieces of glass. I could have had even more but didn’t want to seem too greedy. But I’d rather be keeping Jane and Al, than getting their things. They have been such nice people, good family. It’s a shame they were never parents, they would have been great at it I think. I remember at my wedding, before the ceremony, Jane didn’t think the lace edge of my train was flowing correctly, so she was down on her knees, in her own long dress, basting the scalloped edge with white thread. I married in California, and she took my shopping to get my veil(the gown was homemade by a friend).
She has been recalling stories of when my family would visit, like the time in 1964(I was nine)when she says I was reading out loud from the National Geographic magazine to my sister, about the Good Friday earthquake in Alaska. I don’t remember that, but she says I seemed to know and understand all the vocabulary.
It’s a damn dirty shame for Jane(Al isn’t all that aware by now) to see her stuff going out of her hands. I know, I know, it ends up happening to everyone who lives long enough. But @#$%^&*, that doesn’t mean I have to like it!