~ My great-aunt, Jean Bartley ~

Tues 15 Nov 2005
9:54am

Oh, Aunt Jean.

I see you greeting
(no, being greeted by)
Mom and your parents
and brothers and your friends
Mazel and Ivy
and can’t imagine anything
other than a joyous reunion

How can I be sad for you?
You wanted to be done with it
— your ailing body,
Half blind, half deaf,
Bowels not “working” right

And your sister Margaret! and Angus Drummond!
and Grandpa Benson too!

How can I not be happy for you?

+ If it’s true +

Aunt Jean had a long and good life. She was 91. She was ready to go; she told me herself, several times lately, that she hoped she wouldn’t live much longer in the state she was in. On Friday she went into the hospital with low blood pressure and high potassium. They did tests, gave her fluids, and sent her home the next day, weak but apparently on the mend. I phoned her that night; she was feeling fine, she said, and thanked me for calling, as she always did.

She never married, and as I lay in the tub yesterday morning before receiving the phone call from my cousin Judy, with the news that Aunt Jean had suffered a fatal heart attack, I was planning to ask her about it. Was there never anyone special? Not that I’ve ever heard of. Maybe that was fortunate for the rest of us, because Aunt Jean gave us her attention instead — not only her own nieces (my mom among them) and nephews, but all 30 of her great nieces and nephews. She remembered our birthdays, she knew what all of our kids were doing, she kept in touch, she sent cards and birthday cheques sometimes, she even gave us each $1000 a few years ago, saying she might as well enjoy seeing us spend it while she was still here. I bought my acoustic bass guitar with the unexpected windfall.

On her 80th birthday, and again on her 90th, she put on big parties complete with banquets, dances, and hotel rooms for those who needed financial assistance in order to attend. These were family reunions and she spent months in their planning, with help from Judy and certain other family members who live in Saskatoon. These events must have cost her plenty, and they came complete with extra touches like welcome notes and chocolate candy kisses to greet us when we arrived in our hotel rooms.

Aunt Jean was a generous woman; she worked many years, first at the phone office in our home town, and then for Revenue Canada when she moved to the city. She took care of her own father, my great-grandfather, until he died, and then she kept a friendly eye on the rest of us. I remember her from the time I was a tiny girl, back when she had a little white house with red trim.

When I visited her lately, with Grandma, I received a call on my cellphone. It was one of Everett’s schoolteachers. Everett wasn’t cooperating, and would I speak to him? When I got off the phone after giving my boy a talking to, Aunt Jean wanted to know what the problem was. I explained, and Aunt Jean was quite concerned. Maybe he’d need to go to a special school, maybe he is a gifted child, maybe that is why he has such trouble fitting into regular school society. “He’s very smart, you know,” she added. She was interested in every one of us, Mom always said, and that seemed rare in a single career woman who could have spent all her time doing for and thinking only of herself.

This year will be the first time I purchase my own subscription to the local newspaper. Aunt Jean has been buying it for me on my birthday for many years, and it was mailed to me whenever I lived out of province. I will be thinking of her every January from now on, when I go into the news office to pay for the coming year’s weekly. I won’t even get started on all the kindnesses she’s done for me over the years, not the least of which was lending me several thousand dollars, interest-free, to buy her late brother’s car when I was in my twenties. I paid her $100 a month for about three years, and when it came time to make the last payment, she said “Never mind, keep it!”

Last night I called Judy to say that I’d drive into the city if she needs me to do anything. Judy’s been handling Aunt Jean’s business affairs because of Jean’s poor eyesight, and helping her with everything else — shopping, doctor appointments, not to mention all the effort that went into those fancy birthday parties, and lately moving from one seniors' residence to another. It sounds like she’s got it all in hand now, too. How fortunate Aunt Jean was to have Judy to lean on, and how fortunate we all were to have Aunt Jean.

A glass of water was set on the kitchen window for her last night, and will be refilled with fresh water every day until Dec. 23rd.