I wouldn't have the job I have (and love) without her. I wouldn't have the love of simple, antiquated Victorian treasures, and I wouldn't still have the belief (even if during my adult years it's only slight) that dolls and teddy bears come to life when no one's there to see them, if I didn't have her in my life. I never knew her for the full woman that she was, only as my Aunt Ilse who loved me despite the time and space between visits, and who never let me leave her home without a dolly or bear under my arm.
I always felt so close to her, though never admitted it to anyone else in the family. She taught me how to write calligraphy, and with that, she helped me develop a skill and respect for lettering, which I now use everyday for a living. Through her avid doll and teddy bear collecting, she showed me that even if you have a rare and sought-after item, it's usually the most simple piece that is valued the most, even if it's by no one but yourself, because it has sentimental value. And from her I inherited the habit of constantly re-heating food because it starts to get too cool for your liking - I'm with you on that, Aunt Ilse.
As would be expected, I am sad to know that my Aunt Ilse is no longer with us - I have shed my tears. But I also feel a sense of peace, knowing that she is no longer suffering, no longer lost in a world within her mind that has long since abandoned her. She gets to be free from her ailing body, and I'm sure wherever she is, Uncle Hank is waiting for her with a hug and witty little joke.
My dolls and teddy bears have long been donated and sold at garage sales, except those she gave me (and a few others that hold sentimental value). And just like these precious toys that I will never part with, so too shall the love I have for her stay forever in my heart.
1 comment:
so sorry krish. she sounds awesome. and she, I'm guessing, would probably have appreciated the word verification given for me to type to leave you this comment: phench.
hugs.
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