"Hold That Baby!"

My Aunt Florence died over the weekend.
Florence Elizabeth Lutz.

She wasn't really my aunt.

My family dynamic is really, REALLY hard to describe (it's harder still when you have memory loss). I'd try to tell you how it all works, but I'd probably get it all wrong. We have adoption, steps, "blood," and a whole lot of "like a ___ to me" that all somehow ties in together; I think I'll truly understand it all only when I get to Heaven. Florence and her husband Gene were a like an extra set of parents to my mom, before she was adopted. Gene and his sister (Aunt Mary?)(or maybe it was his mom), and my Grandpa Myers raised my mom, and then he met Florence (and Grandpa met Marie), and the rest is history...although, in my mind, it's a very confused history.
Florence was funny, kind, sweet, and quite...ahem...round. Her house was always too hot, smelled funny, and TBN was always BLARING on the television. Going over to her little apartment was never something I really looked forward too, but my mom would always remind me how she could die at any time, and "wouldn't you feel bad if you didn't go see her?" Yep--I'm an A+ student of the Pseudo-Italian/Jewish School of Guilt. :)
Gene and Florence were around quite a bit when I was little, although I only remember Gene as being very, very ill--he died when I was really young, and my memories are vague. I knew he worked for Chrysler, and that he and Florence married late in life. They never had any children, and I think that was because of something that happened to Gene as a young man. Mom was as close to a kid as Florence ever had, and she loved her fiercely. I truly believe that the prayers Florence prayed over Mom are why she's a Christian today.
I protected my daughter ferociously. Not many people had the chance to see her at the hospital, and I'm not much for company (when I'm healthy), so not many people saw her in my home. Florence is the only person who's home we visited with Hannah, outside of my parents--mom said she really wanted to "hold that baby!", so on Thanksgiving, 2006, after the meal was finished at my parents' house, off to Florence's stuffy little apartment we went.
She held Hannah, cuddled her...even though she was starting to just dust the edges of dementia, she loved on that baby girl. Hannah, in that weekend, got to meet my Milo and Edna, and Aunt Florence--my favorite "old people."
They're all gone, now...
There's a jealousy that strikes me at every funeral I go to, now...they all get to see my Hannah again before I do. It's so strange...
Florence was ready to go. Nary a tear was shed today, by those of us who knew her. Florence wanted to see her Gene, and meet her Jesus. I've never known anyone who was so ready to go to Heaven. She'd talk about what she'd see when she got there, to anyone who would listen. Heaven was her favorite subject...Jesus, Gene, and to "hold that baby!" in eternity.
Florence was one of the few people that could say those "old lady" things to me, and I would listen, because I knew she meant it. She'd say to me, "I can't wait to meet Jesus! I'm gonna see GENE! And I'm gonna HOLD THAT BABY!!!" She'd smile--but the first time she said it to me, I had to walk out of the room so she wouldn't see me cry. I wasn't ready for that, yet, even though I knew it to be true. She said it a lot, any time she saw me: "I'm going to meet Jesus, be with my Gene, and I'm gonna Hold That BABY!" Florence struggled through diabetes, blood pressure issues, obesity, some weird form of cancer--all kinds of stuff, and never lost her sense of humor. Her favorite saying was "I SWAN!" which I found out today, is the "nice lady" way of not saying "I swear"--'cause that's not Christian. :)
Today, in saying goodbye, I went up to the casket and patted her hand. It's the first time I've touched a body in a casket in 5 years. Someone at the nursing home had painted her nails with tiny flowers on them--something that I know Aunt Florence would have loved. She loved pretty things, sparkly things, glittery things--Mom and I come by it honestly. Apparently, when they painted her nails that way 2 weeks ago, she told her friends with a big smile, "Looky! I've got my nails painted like the YOUNG GIrls! (I SWAN!)" She was so darn funny (but you'd never hear her say "darn!"). She was a down-home girl from Indiana, even though she was 90.
There was a look of peace about her in that casket...something that made me want to go up and pat her hand, even though I know she's not in that body anymore. She was ready to go...ready to leave this world behind, ready to meet Jesus. Who can cry, at a funeral like that? Who can mourn? Not anyone who has that same hope.
They touched up her nails for today, and put her in a beautiful blue dress. Whoever did her hair made it up just right for today, and she looked amazing--but I'm positive that was the peace in her expression, and not her makeup. Florence died in her sleep (like all of my "old people," thank God), and she met Jesus on His terms...
I can't imagine what or who she's seeing...I know she's with her beloved Gene...
And I know she's "holdin' that BABY!"