Nothing Scary . . . Just my Week

My Great Aunt Leona died last week.

She was ninety-six and had led a very full life. But it was very sad. Aunt Leona was my grandmother's sister, but was also her best friend. And while my grandmother had severe dementia for a very long time, Aunt Leona was lucid to the end. She remembered.

Aunt Leona did not have children of her own . . . so she was a second mother to my mother. Much like my grandmother, she had this amazing sense of fun and sometimes mischief. She never had anything bad to say about anyone. She had travelled the world and always had stories to tell. She expanded our worlds by telling them. She always had a giggle and a sparkle in her eye, even at the end when she really wasn't feeling all that great.

Even though there were four of us . . . and she had really breakable stuff, Aunt Leona would have us all over and loved us. She would play games with us for hours and seemed delighted to play "High Ho Cherry O". She had beautiful clothes and jewelry and elegant furniture. She showed us how to appreciate fine things.

She had gotten ready. Gave my mother a list, which my mother completed for her. Evidently, all of the items were food related . . . rhubarb pie, green onions . . . and then she left us, quietly, before lunch on a Saturday.

We cleaned out her apartment that day. That was Saturday. I offered to dye my hair. I spent Sunday with my brother and parents.

Monday I just didn't feel well. I skipped class. My mother went and made the arrangements.

Tuesday I was stood up for a date. Which wasn't all that big a deal. Just annoying. And then he called with an excuse . . . an excuse that was more annoying. And then I went to a movie with Princess in which the main character finds fulfillment in having a child. Literally, the message was "have a child and then you won't need men". Being single, 36, stood up, and childless, I did not find the message of the movie uplifting. It made me sad.

Wednesday my father called and informed me that he was taking my mother to the hospital. Go to hospital. Know mother is feeling better when she tells us to take the sock monkey home and "go roomba the kitchen". We go roomba the kitchen (it's very noisy, the roomba). I make boozy pie.

Thursday I bake. They found nothing wrong with my mother (THANK GOODNESS) and we chalk it up to bad chicken. See what happens when you don't eat family chicken?

Friday I pick up the prodigal son from the airport. We have lunch. I deliver him to the family. My sister tells me that my cupcakes are bad. My brothers support her opinion.

Saturday is the funeral. And it is very sad. And my family keeps making fun of my wig. My brother keeps bowing and asking me when I joined the communist regime. I get really tipsy at Ashley's and find that the bathrooms are still kinda gross . . . not as gross as I remember, but gross. We go to my parent's house and light the fireworks that were supposed to be for the Fourth of July.

Sunday one of my friends lost his job. Which makes me feel bad for him. And things weren't going so well for him to begin with, so it's sort of like watching a train wreck.

And in amongst this, I join yahoo personals for week (hence the blind date that stood me up). Somewhere, somehow, during the chaos of the week, I came to the conclusion that I deserve more. Maybe it was the one that started with how he really wanted to "fusk me" . . . maybe it was the one that is "looking forward to our physical relationship". Maybe it was the train wreck that just happened. But you know what? I deserve more.

And part of this push to meet people (people being men to date) was that I didn't want to be Aunt Leona, whom I saw as childless and therefore, alone. That was part of the dating panic which was really dying alone panic. I didn't want poor Z. to have to take care of me . . . being my step-nephew and all. If I was going to be a burden, I wanted to be a burden to someone who I pushed out my womb. It seems only fair.

But you know what? Aunt Leona had a really great life. And a really great couch. And things worked out for her, even though she and Uncle Manning dated forever (11 years). And so . . . things will work out for me.

There. Doesn't everyone feel better?

And I'm still not going to answer my phone. Sorry.

But I might give you a bad cupcake.