Barbara, the woman formerly known as “Aunt Barbara,” passed away this week after a battle with cancer. She was my uncle’s third wife, and they were together about as long as my husband and I have been. It was Barbara who packed her bags and moved out, thus allowing the family to dub her the “home wrecker.” My uncle remarried, they moved away, and, after a time, that woman left him too. I don’t think my uncle is a “good catch.”
With the passing of time, my feelings softened. By chance, or God’s hand, I ran into Barbara the day before my mother was to be buried. She was sympathetic, said lovely things about my mother, and came to the visitation. It was the first time I’d seen her since the divorce, and it was to be the last time.
My feelings are a-jumble. I am sad at the loss, sad that the mother of my cousin is gone, sad for his grieving. I shared many family holiday dinner with Barbara, was at her home to watch that Super Bowl of 1985 when the Bears reigned, was by her side after the death of her oldest son when he was but 20.
Although only four years older than me, Barbara was my aunt for almost half of my life. Because of the divorce from my uncle, she was no longer my aunt, no longer family. I think the realization I have come to with her passing is that the heart doesn’t recognize legal contracts but is controlled by the intricate strands of memory that are woven into its very being.
I mourn. I hope that Barbara has awakened to joyous eternal life. Amen.
It was a blessing to both of you that you ran into her and were able to reassure each other that there were no negative feelings. People come into one's life, and all too soon they are gone.
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