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“Where did you get so many Twinkies?” I asked excitedly after I hopped up beside Suzy.
Aunt Dianne explained, “I went to the bake shop and market in town where they sell these. The owners say they can’t sell them after they get old, so I can have as many as I want. The pigs don’t care if the Twinkies are old. They can eat anything—except the wrappers. Climb inside and take off the wrappers. We are going to give Twinkies to the pigs!”
Suzy and I climbed up and began ripping open the sweet treats, throwing the wrappers off the side of the truck. We got faster and faster at it. After it was too late, Aunt Dianne said, “Don’t eat too many, the sugar will go to your head!” We began jumping all over the truck. We landed on top of the Twinkies and laughed like hyenas.
Remembering that day, Suzy and I began laughing all over again. “I think I ate about a hundred of those Twinkies,” said Suzy.
“I know, and then you threw them up all over the yard,” I teased. It was good to see Suzy happy. If only for a few moments.
Late that afternoon when things were quiet and visitors had slowed, I went into Aunt Dianne’s bedroom. I wanted to go in by myself and try to do what Papa said—to remember everything. Aunt Dianne was sleeping soundly. The bedroom was filled with family pictures, treasures, and many things I had seen a hundred times but never really studied. They all seem to be important to her, otherwise she would not have taken such care to place them just so.
Her jewelry was hanging on the wall. Momma said Uncle Joe built her that necklace hanger. It was a wooden frame with three rows of pegs on small boards placed in the middle of the frame. This was where she put her jewelry after coming back from church or an evening out when she dressed fancy. I could see her raise the necklace from her neck, pull it around her head, and carefully hang it on the necklace hanger like she had done time and time again. This was one of the hundreds of things Uncle Joe built for her before he died. He built things for her just because she said she would like it.
The dresser and bureau were covered in flowers, plants, a precious stone, a cross, and other things people had given her. I think all those things were a way of saying how much they love her. She helped so many people. And now they must have been saying thank you.
On the low table by her bed, there was a miniature garden. I know my momma made that with Aunt Dianne. They spent the afternoon in the backyard last fall, searching for the right kind of moss, sticks, rocks, and acorns to add to the planter. When I asked them what they were making, Momma said it was “a land for a person to live in peace.” They both laughed out loud.
I don’t remember seeing it finished until now. There was a small Asian fisherman carved out of green shiny stone. He was holding a fishing pole with the line hanging in the water. The water was made of something that looked like clear nail polish, and you could see a fish under the water just watching the man with the pole. That fish was not going to go near the line and that seemed okay with the fisherman. There was a squirrel, some geese, and other animals in the planter—none larger than my baby finger. There was a miniature tree just behind the man. Momma called it a bonsai. The quiet fisherman sat looking over his land. He looked like he was at peace. I knew he was watching over Aunt Dianne too.
There were pictures of Uncle Joe in several places around the room. One was a picture of a young Uncle Joe and another man wearing dark suits. They didn’t look very happy but stood tall for the picture. I’m gonna have to ask Momma about that one, I thought.
Another was a picture of Aunt Dianne and Uncle Joe during wartime. Uncle Joe had on his private-in-the-army uniform, and he had his arm around Aunt Dianne. She looked lovely in a dark dress with white trim around the collar. Her dark hair was combed and set pretty. They were both smiling so big. Momma once told me that picture was taken on their wedding day.
She said, “I was there when they got married. The day after the picture was taken Uncle Joe went to the war. It was a happy sad day. Happy because my sister just married her best friend and sad because he was going away.”
My favorite picture of Uncle Joe is as a young man. He was wearing a work shirt carefully tucked into his jeans. It looked like he had been working in the garden because his clothes were covered in dirt. Uncle Joe was walking down a dirt path toward the person taking the picture. He had a shy smile with his head tipped slightly to one side. He was a handsome man. I know why Aunt Dianne and Momma loved him so. Momma used to say, “Joe is as good a man as anyone could find, just like your papa.”
I went to find Suzy. She was in the front room looking at all the Get Well cards that had come to Aunt Dianne. There were so many cards in all the rooms of the house. Suzy had tears on her face. I grabbed her hand in both of my hands and just held on.
Papa said Aunt Dianne was a good person, and we weren’t the only people that loved her. I could tell that was true by the cards. Suzy and I walked around the house and looked at all of them. We counted them in groups of ones with flowers, ones with shimmer, and those that were just plain. But they all were pretty and said such sweet things.
“All these cards did nothing. My momma is not going to get well,” Suzy whispered as more tears spilled down her face.
Throughout the day, Aunt Dianne lay in her bed. She was sleeping mostly but waking enough to notice the people visiting and talking to her. She smiled with her eyes because I think it took too much effort to do it with her mouth and face. But we knew she was smiling. She would bow her head a little to thank us—for coming to visit, for getting a cup of ice chips for her, or anything else people did for her.
We all knew she was the one that deserved the thanks. Aunt Dianne was Momma’s older sister and had given us so much. We lived with her and Uncle Joe when Papa lost his job and we didn’t have a house. Even when we moved to our own house, Aunt Dianne would come with her arms full of vegetables and bread. I think she was afraid we might starve.
It turns out my papa is a good cook. I never knew that. Unless Momma was sick, she did all the cooking and cleaning up. She said, “Your papa works hard every day. When he comes home, he rests and I cook. That is just the way we worked things out.”
The first night we were at Aunt Dianne’s, Papa announced, “Tonight it will be a meal of tradition— turkey, gravy, dressing, green beans, and carrots. A ‘thanks giving’ meal!” Later Momma told us that the reason he cooked turkey was because it fell out of the freezer on his feet one too many times.
Many people had visited during the day, but tonight was quiet. It was just the four of us at the table for dinner. As I looked around the table, I thought about my momma and papa helping Aunt Dianne go to heaven.
Watching them made me feel happy sad. Happy that Aunt Dianne was getting such love and help for the pain and sad for Suzy losing her momma. Because no matter how good it might be for your momma to pass on, it has got to be horrible for a child. We talked of many things except what was happening. It was like the fact that Aunt Dianne was dying was in every corner of the room and the house, but we didn’t want to notice.
Not many people in the house slept that night. Suzy and I were sharing a bed, and we could not fall asleep. We decided to talk about all the kids at school to keep our mind off the sad subject. We went down the list of who sat at each desk and what they were like—who their family was, whether they were nice or smart or just plain mean. We fell asleep as the early morning sunlight was coming in the room.
Later, Suzy woke with a jolt and ran to her momma’s bedroom. I was close behind. My momma greeted us at the door of Aunt Dianne’s room, “Well, good morning, girls! It is a good morning! Suzy, your momma is ready for her morning hug and reading from your favorite book.”
“I think I will read from her favorite book, if that is okay. Momma, would you like me to read to you from the Bible?” Suzy asked.
Aunt Dianne’s blue eyes seem to become a brighter blue. The lines at the sides squeezed upward. Even the lines at her mouth turned up. There was that smile. She had a real pretty smile. I went to get some ice chips, just in case, and Suzy began to read. I saw tears coming from my momma’s eyes, but as I heard Suzy reading her momma’s favorite book, I couldn’t help but feel a little happy.
On Sunday, more people came to see Aunt Dianne and bring food for all of us to eat. They brought flowers from their gardens too. Suzy and I stayed outside most of the day because, as Suzy said, “People are all crying.”
Later in the day when the crowds left, Papa called Suzy and me into Aunt Dianne’s bedroom. Mama was standing by the bed holding Aunt Dianne’s hand. Aunt Dianne was sleeping. I could hear her breathing. It was louder than Momma’s breathing. Rather than the almost silent sound that breath usually makes, I could hear rattling like paper being crumpled then opened out smooth and crumpled again.
My papa bent down close to Suzy, put one hand on the bed and lightly patted the space beside Suzy’s momma. With a slight smile, Papa said, “Suzy, come sit on your momma’s bed.” After Suzy crawled up, she grabbed her momma’s soft, wrinkly hand.
