My Great Great Aunt Ruth died on Good Friday. This July 4 would have been her 100th birthday. She almost made it to 100–she was sure planning on living that long. But she missed Uncle Charlie. And after being married over sixty years, who could blame her for finding the last seven years without him the longest in her long life?
I’m glad I got to see her again a year and a half ago. She and Uncle Charlie were the only great-great relatives I ever knew. And she may have been 98, but she could still play the piano better than most, and knew more songs by heart than anyone I know. You’d start to ask her if she could remember a certain tune…and she’d play “Try to Remember.” Song after song, instantaneously, by heart. That was Aunt Ruth.
I’d forgotten about my last conversation with Aunt Ruth, until Natalie reminded me I’d written about it here on the blog (re-posted below). On our last visit to New Mexico, I’d told Aunt Ruth about Merritt, and shown her pictures. And she’d told me over and again about Uncle Charlie, and what a good husband he was.
I didn’t get to visit her again the next year, because, like she (and I) had hoped, Merritt and I were married by that time. I’ll have to leave it to my cousin Melissa to carry on Aunt Ruth’s talent of making beautiful music. But someday, Lord willing, I’ll tell my great-great grand nieces and nephews about my wonderful husband. And our family’s tradition of long and happy marriages…
The last conversation from a visit with my 98-year-old Great Great Aunt Ruth on Saturday…
“Will you come again next year?” Aunt Ruth asked.
“Yes, I will, if I’m not married.”
“Well,” she smiled, “I hope you’re married.”
I giggled. “I hope so, too.”
“How old are you again?” she asked.
“Twenty-two.”
“That’s a good age to be married,” Aunt Ruth said with conviction.
“I’m glad you think so.”
“Being married is the most wonderful thing, if you have a good man as I did.
“Well, I’m rather prejudiced, but I think I have the best man in the whole world.”
“That’s how it should be. That’s what I thought of my husband.”I wish I could remember exactly how she worded those last few sentences… Uncle Charlie died six years ago, after he and Aunt Ruth had been married over 60 years. She kept saying how hard it was to live alone, that she wished they could have gone together. Yet as lonely as she is, all she talked about was what a good man Uncle Charlie was, and how they had such a good life together. She was full of fond reminisces and hearty praise for the man she still loves.
We heard the stories over and over. I s’pose that’s how everyone else feels with all the stories I tell about my man. But I just had to laugh, because I’m sure when my great-great-grand-niece comes to visit me someday in a nursing home, all I’ll talk about is that good-looking man in the picture frames all around me, and what a good man he was...
No comments yet.