Kimberly Holmes Header REVISED

Sunday, October 16, 2016

So Long Aunt Helen

These are my Facebook posts from the last two weeks. 
Ten days ago:

My mother and I are preparing to do a very hard thing today.
We will be awaiting the arrival of her older sister, my Aunt Helen. She will arrive by ambulance and be transferred to a hospital bed in my mother's living room. Then we will wait for hospice to arrive and tell us what the next steps are.

Aunt Helen is 82. She took a nasty fall in the bathtub last week which led to several days in a chair where she was unable to get up or call for help. This breaks our hearts more than any words can say. On Thursday night she was taken by ambulance to the hospital where it was discovered that she has cancer in her liver, lungs, kidneys and bones. There are no available beds in hospice right now so she will stay with my mother until that changes. She is in good spirits and morphine is controlling her physical pain. She eats pudding for breakfast and ice cream for lunch because...in her words....WHY THE HELL NOT?

Yesterday I found myself alone with her and we chatted about regular stuff for awhile. The conversation went a little deeper and I was able to tell her how proud I was to have her as my Aunt. How much I love to tell people about my brave Aunt Helen who moved to New York City as a single woman in the 1950's. She has always been a role model for me. Some of my favorite childhood memories are the ones of visiting her in Manhattan. I was so in awe of her city life and I remember just standing at her apartment window on West 55th and counting taxi cabs as they hurried by. After a long day in the city we would come back to her place and drink ginger ale and eat pretzels before changing and going out to dinner. I felt so fancy staying someplace with a doorman but I must confess I was totally infatuated with the incinerator and loved to take the garbage 'out'. It doesn't take much to impress this country girl, huh? She taught me how to walk and talk and be a 'city girl'. Don't look down, don't go too slow, look strong and determined, NEVER act like you don't know where you are...just keep walking. Pretty good advice for life too now that I think about it. She always encouraged my dreams and sent me interior design articles and brochures from colleges in the city. I wanted to be just like her and move to the city after I graduated. I wanted to be an interior designer and go to school at FIT. I was accepted there and so excited about how my life might intertwine with Aunt Helen's in the big city but life had other plans for me but that's another story for another day. Aunt Helen is tough as nails and she tells it how it is whether we like it or not. She doesn't fool us though...under her tough exterior is a very tender heart who truly loves us all through her sometimes difficult and gruff ways. I told her that even as she faces her own death she is teaching me so much. We held hands and I said "I'm really going to miss you." She said she was really going to miss me too. Then we cried....just a little. I told her how much I admire her and what a brave adventure her life has been. She responded by saying that she was about to go to another world and have a brand new adventure. She is one of the most stoic people I know but she admitted that she really needed a good cry. This is one of my wishes for her now...that she allow herself to have a really good cry. She has earned it. This conversation was.....Tender. Raw. Vulnerable. Real. Surreal. Almost like watching a scene from a really good movie. Except it was our own beautiful and precious life.

Is this too much to share here? I don't think so. I decided that as a writer I want to share this story of how healing and love can shine through some of our hardest days. I heal and process through writing. That has always been my way and now is no different. I am deeply grateful for this chance to have a proper goodbye with my Aunt and tell her all those things that would have weighed so heavily on my heart if I had never been able to share them with her. We don't always get that chance. Maybe if you are reading this you might think of someone you love and just tell them whatever it is you need to tell them. 

Right now. Don't wait.

I also decided to share so that those of you who feel inclined can hold us in your thoughts and if you are the praying kind that would be good too. But first a word about prayer....PLEASE don't pray for healing....she is ready to transition from this world to the next. She is onto her to next brave adventure. Please pray for her dying to be peaceful, as pain free as possible and surrounded by those that love her. I believe in sharing our sadness and our times of loss because none of us can do this alone. This is holy ground where we grieve together and allow our heartache to be witnessed. Having her for an Aunt was like winning the Aunt lotto. Lucky me.
Thank you for 'listening'.
I love this photo of my mother and her siblings.
From left to right: The baby is my mom being held by her sister Nelda, brother Tom and their big sister Helen. 1943ish



Eight days ago:

Aunt Helen. Here she is....this is for all of you who have taken the time to comment or react to a post, called, sent a private message, texted or sent kind thoughts or prayers. We appreciate you and we have leaned on you more than you may realize.

She is declining more with each passing hour and we are thankful for these days we have spent telling stories, laughing and sharing our hearts. She is preparing for her final rest and we strive to make this transition as pain freeand as safe for her as possible. She is surrounded by people who love her. She is aware and grateful that we are there. She's not opening her eyes very often now but she hears every word we say and lets us know that by randomly shouting out answers to our questions or comments on things we are discussing. We can't help but laugh and be grateful that some parts of her are still so intact and reminding us of her fortitude and grace. I am so glad my sister is here now and I love overhearing them talk about their shared memories. We each have our own unique and special relationship with this force to be reckoned with otherwise known as our Aunt Helen.

These times are sad but sacred. We are ready to say our goodbyes and pray that her end is near. My mother let her know this morning that she can let go and we will be there to send her off.

A little story to go with the photo:
She wears the sun glasses to keep light from hurting her eyes and my mother gave her that black shawl the other day to keep her shoulders warm. When I saw the shawl combined with the glasses I had to take this photo because this is the very essence of Aunt Helen. She will go out as she lived....in style. As my soul sister Lisa told her.... 'Helen!!! You look like you just stepped off Park Avenue!!!!' She laughed and smiled at this comment and I believe she even sat up a bit taller. This is when I captured the picture.

The moment I saw her like this I was transported back in time to a day in Manhattan when she was holding my hand and hailing a taxi with her other hand. She was wearing a long coat with a wide belt tied off to one side and black leather boots. She had similar sunglasses on and I just remember looking up at her with my wide eyed little girl eyes and being in such awe of my fancy city Aunt. I asked her if she remembered and she smiled and said she certainly did. She remembered the boots, the coat and the day.

You can take Aunt Helen out of Manhattan but you'll never take the Manhattan out of her.



Two days ago:

Aunt Helen hailed her final taxi just before 2am this morning.

She was always one to take care of business and keep her affairs in order. They gave her 3 - 6 months to live on September 30. Instead she went from diagnosis to death in just two weeks. This is not surprising as she was a dot your i's and cross your t's kind of person. At her bedside in the hospital two weeks ago today my mother and I heard the details of her very advanced cancer. Aunt Helen looked at me and said "If you have anything to say Kimberly, say it now." She was honest, direct, abrupt and had no tolerance for drama. I aspire to be more like her. My final conversation with her was around noon yesterday when she asked "Why would someone have to die like this and could we just get the job done?" I took her hand and kissed her forehead and said "Let's do it today Aunt Helen" to which she quietly whispered okay. She wasn't afraid, just determined and an inspiration to all of us right up until the very end.

As long as I can remember Aunt Helen has always used the term 'So long' when saying goodbye to us in person or on the phone. I've always liked it and wondered about it's meaning. There are various theories on its exact origin but the one I like the most is that it comes from New York City where Irish, Italian, Jewish and Arab immigrants lived together in the 1800's. It is common for the Jewish people to greet and say goodbye to each other by saying Shalom and the Arabic version is Salaam. Over time this was adopted by the Irish and Italians and became Solong. This makes sense as our family originally came from Ireland into New York City.

I also discovered this from Walt Whitman which was his last poem in Leaves of Grass.

So Long

An unknown sphere, more real than I dream'd, more direct, darts awakening rays about me...So long!
Remember my words -- I may again return,
I love you -- I depart from materials;
I am as one disembodied, triumphant, dead.

I find this poem to be a fitting tribute this morning.

The general meaning of Solong is:
'Farewell, until we meet again.'

In that spirit we say 'So Long Aunt Helen'

Helen Marie Lynch
May 2, 1934 - October 14, 2016




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