Auntie M

(here's the link to the poem my Dad wrote)
One of my father's sisters passed away 6 days ago.

Aunt Martha is the fourth of his 8 siblings to leave us.  

Whenever I think of Auntie M, I see her warm smile & twinkling eyes first of all and then I hear her sweet, cheerful voice.

Uncle Harry and Aunt Martha

I have a precious memory of her, from the day after the Columbus Day storm, that I've held close all these years.  Whenever the date of my birth rolled around, instead of visions of cupcakes dancing through my head I began to mope over the inevitable departure of my folks.  October = hunting season and hunting season (for the adults in my life) meant time together with their group of friends and family up in the woods.  

At that particular time of my life (4 years old), I don't remember where my brothers, sisters and I would end up staying while the parents were gone, but I do have a vague memory of sitting on a family friend's couch watching and waiting for family to retrieve me and take me home.  I have no idea how that foggy bit ties into the rest of the story.  Possibly because of my overwhelming concern about Mom and Dad being unable to get home on time, due to road closures caused by the big storm.  

The day after the storm, with an enormous Cedar tree resting on the corner of our house, my Aunt Martha was determined that I get some kind of family celebration for my 4th birthday.  So while she cooked our breakfast on a Coleman stove in our non-electrified home, she christened my pancake--a birthday pancake.  As I grew to adulthood, it became my favorite birthday memory.

Thank you, Aunt Martha, for being there for that four year old.  Rest in peace.