Don't Wait

This summer, Aunt Bonnie and Uncle John were going to come for a visit. We dearly love Aunt Bonnie and Uncle John, and have jealously anticipated any time we could spend with them, whether while we're driving through Oklahoma, or in knowing they are coming here. Friday, I received a call from Aunt Bonnie's daughter. At first, I was so pleasantly surprised to hear from her, but then her voice cracked, and she said, "We lost Mama this morning."

I haven't been able to write about this, and I've been trying since that afternoon. My heart broke. For her family, her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. For her husband and co-conspirator in life. For her friends at the bakery. For me. Aunt Bonnie was loved by everyone she knew.

Aunt Bonnie spent Thursday baking (she loved to bake, and man, she was good at it - renowned in her community for the best cinnamon rolls on earth!) and then she went to the casino to play with a little of her mad money. She died peacefully, in her sleep, sometime during the night. As last days go, that's not bad. I am thankful she did not suffer, and that Uncle John was not subjected to watching the love of his life wither and suffer, as well.

But I was waiting for the weekend to call her. (Don't wait.)

She was waiting for summer to come visit. (Don't wait.)

The last time we talked was only a week ago. She was up to her armpits in baking flour. She was so proud of her daughter, Linda. She was in love with her wonderful great-grandbabies and shared funny stories about the things kids say. She laughingly and happily relayed stories of Bob, who is living a wonderful, crazy, happy cancer-free life in the Northwest. She was excited about their plans for the trip out.

She didn't wait to enjoy her family. She savored every crazy moment. She shared that love with the rest of us. Don't wait... for things to calm down... for things to improve... for things to be 'just so'. Don't. This is the life we have, and it will be what we make of it. Aunt Bonnie knew that, and she shared it with us. So now, I'll share it with you.

Two of my favorite stories of Aunt Bonnie came from my Mom. At one point, when they were young women, Aunt Bonnie was single and Mom was married. They lived next door to one another, and were the dearest of friends (a friendship that lasted a full lifetime - they could get together after a five or ten year hiatus and within two minutes be laughing and giggling like schoolgirls again). Well, Aunt Bonnie would get home from a date and come over to Mom's house and knock on the window to let Mom know she was home. Mom would take the coffee pot and two cups to the spare bedroom, set it up on the bed and she and Aunt Bonnie would sit back there, drinking coffee, laughing, and gabbing until the sun came up.

Another story, from about the same time period, involved two ladies hopped up on caffeine, trying to paint the ceiling in that spare room. Well, Mom was only 5'3", and they didn't have a long roller. So Aunt Bonnie suggested, after watching Mom jump up and down, trying get paint on the ceiling (getting more on herself than anything else) that they push the bed into the middle of the room and jump on that. They did. I think they still got more paint on themselves than anything else (it's difficult to paint straight lines while you're laughing so hard). But in the end, they got the room painted, brought the coffee pot back there, and enjoyed hot coffee and friendship under their freshly painted ceiling.

I couldn't wait for Zorak to meet Aunt Bonnie and Uncle John. He fell in love with both of them just as much as I had. I'm thankful he got to meet her, and enjoy pot upon pot of coffee at her dining table (which looks ever so much like Mom's always did - it's the command center of the home). The boys fell in love with her, and dubbed her Grandma Bonnie. James said she was a lot like his Grandma (my Mom), and that she gave good hugs.

She had a warm home, where one was always welcome. She always said it was carefully decorated in "Early American Yard Sale" (she did love a good deal). If you stayed for a visit of any length, that front door would open more times than you could count and in would file kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids, just stopping by for a visit. It was wonderful. I want a home like that.

I want another year, another visit, another phone call. But they won't come. I will miss that, miss her. So many of us will. But because she didn't wait for life to come her way, because she went out and rounded it up and fed it and passed the coffee freely, those of us who have been left behind will have one another to continue to love and cherish. We'll have coffee together, and while the table won't be quite as full with that one empty spot, it will be okay. We will have laughter together. We will have silence that descends so fiercely and feels so deep it could rend us in two. We will have memories and stories to help mend our hearts. We will have the pain of her loss, but she made our hearts big enough to handle the scar.

This morning, let's raise our cups and toast life, love, and Not Waiting!

I love you, Aunt Bonnie.

~Dy