My great aunt, the one whose husband recently died, the one who treated me with such cold disdain for much of my life, especially when I was young.
The one who looked through me and up and down and found me lacking.
I didn’t attend her husband’s services, but made sure an expensive and tasteful bouquet and large fruit basket was sent to her home from the last remaining of her sister’s clan.
I had the card list the 4 of us by the order of our births and signed off with love from Marguerite’s clan.
I hear she was in a wheelchair at the services. Devastated by her loss, surrounded by her immediate family of 4 living children, and at least 20 grandchildren.
She has a small platoon to look after her and love on her.
She always was highly regarded by her sisters and the family at large.
A striking woman. Still beautiful last I saw her in person at her 80th birthday, where for the first time ever, I felt a slight comfort in her presence.
Her face now so similar to my mother’s after not having seen my mother’s face for so many years.
In the vacuum of my mother’s passing the remaining family resemblances become more acute.
