This evening I called my mom for a recipe for BBQ Beef Burgers. She reminded me that it came from my aunt, her sister, Clara Lee. Ever since, she’s been on my mind.
I can see her standing at the stove, showing me how to fry yellow squash. Talking me through the process, reminding me to becareful because the oil will pop and burn me. She’s smiling, encouraging, and I feel so warm and comfortable with her. I can tell her anything and I know she won’t judge me or make fun of me.
She died in March, 1987 from Breast Cancer.
I used to dream about her now and then. I can still hear her voice and her laugh. The last time I saw her, she was wearing a red, white, and blue plaid shirt with a denim skirt, standing on the back porch of her house, waving at me as Bosco and I were backing out of the driveway of her farmhouse. She ran down the steps and jogged over to my side of the car. I threw open the door and jumped out to give her one last hug. She told me she loved me.
I saved her letters, the last birthday card and Christmas card she sent me. She gave me a baby ring when I was born and we shared the same middle name. Love doesn’t go away over time, it just gets deeper.
It’s October and I wear my pink Breast Cancer Awareness t-shirts, pink watch, and “Hope” necklace every chance I get. Today, I made her BBQ Beef Burgers. Maybe next week, I’ll make her Mississippi Mud. Sure do miss her.