Vigil. 6-20-12

I remember my dad’s Aunt C. She was married to my Paw Paw’s oldest brother. They lived out in the country about an hour away from us on a big farm. They had a dog named Dobe that would pick the best watermelons from the field, to Aunt C’s and Uncle J’s amused consternation. They were the first of my Paw Paw’s brothers to move out of Appalachia, and my Paw Paw followed suit not long after. My dad was born at the hospital near there. When her diabetes started to get the best of her, she moved to a nursing home closer to our house. When I went home from college and had time between loads of laundry, I would make a trip over to see her.

Boop doin' the Freddie!

She was one of the most popular residents at the facility. She had an amazing memory, reminding me of things I had said and done but had long forgotten. People would always leave her room with a smile on their face, and I always felt a little better having seen her. Well, except one time. She had just returned from dialysis and was completely exhausted and seemed low. I could tell she didn’t have much energy, and it was too much of an effort for her to talk to me. She once told me that right before her daddy passed, that he was in some different place, hammering imaginary nails in the air. He had been a carpenter. And so it was with Aunt C. At the last, as she was fading in and out of sleep, she was crocheting imaginary quilts in the air. It had given her so much pleasure but had been limited by her lost eyesight.

I’m sorry Boop will never have a chance to know her, except through my stories. And I can’t help but think about how dialysis left Aunt C. And when the doctor told me that Boop would have to go on dialysis as a young adult if her kidneys were scarred from repeated UTIs, I thought of that day I saw Aunt C. And then finding UTIs without fever and in spite of antibiotic prophylaxis makes feel a bit helpless and on edge.