Eulogy

My Aunt Gay had the world’s greatest voice. Her deep rasp reflected her wry humor, her spunk, and a lifetime of smoking. Whenever she said, “Oh that’s daaarling!” (which she often did) I couldn’t help but smile. That phrase, that voice, conjures up fond memories of wading together into the Atlantic surf and enjoying lemon-sugar crepes on Rehoboth Beach Boardwalk.

Aunt Gay brought our family together. She organized our reunions for years – renting out three giant houses near the Delaware shore. If it wasn’t for that week every other summer, I wouldn’t know my sixty-odd aunts, uncles, cousins and 2nd cousins. For that I will always be thankful.

When Aunt Gay came to visit us in California, my mom would clean the whole house three times over to try and impress her big sister. Still, a look of horror would cross Gay’s face when she saw the state of our messy, Berkeley household. But that didn’t make her love us any less. With her six children, six children-in-law, thirteen grandchildren and countless nieces and nephews, it was always a treat to spend some time alone with her.

She signed the cards that she sent for every birthday and holiday “Old Gay,” even though she was only in her seventies. Cancer took her swiftly, but she managed to maintain her sense of humor until the end.

Aunt Gay died last night and it makes me sad for reasons that are beyond expression. I’m sad because my mother lost her sister. I’m sad because my cousins lost their mom and my second cousins lost their grandma. But most of all, I’m sad because I’ll never hear that voice again.

Good bye Aunt Gay. I’ll miss you.