Thursday, July 23, 2009

I'm Not Dead, But Aunt Diane Is

After laying alone in her little messy mobile home for what the coroner estimates as six days. Six hot July days. The police department found my dead aunt. There she was all six feet of her laid out naked on her bed.

She slept naked, I'm sure. My mother's family had a propensity to want to be naked a lot, probably as a result of growing up in boiling hot Texas temperatures with girdles, stiff bras, and up-dos. As a matter of fact, their mother was kicked out of a nursing home because she refused to put clothes on.

My sisters have fond memories of Grandmother sitting on park benches without panties, airing out her Lily. She was a fine Texas lady, don't get me wrong. She grew roses, married the mayor, and went to finishing school. She complied and acquiesced and used all her charm and grace. It seems that going without panties might have been her only holdout. The last chance she had to rebel.

My mom and her sister were very close and shared their interests in all the arts. They are tall, like me. And red-headed. Its hard not to be opinionated and bossy when you look like us. This presented Aunt Diane and Mom with a bit of a competitive edge. As a matter of fact, when my mom found out that Aunt Diane had died, she said "Damn it!" I asked her what's the matter. She replied "She learned everything she needed know before I did so she gets to move on. Now I'm stuck here with all her shit!" I know, it's totally true. We are stuck with all her shit, and there's a lot of it mixed in with the treasures.

Mom and I believe that we are sent here to learn lessons and once you've learned them, you get to move on. Since Mom is older, I'm sure she's feeling a bit left behind. But I told her not to learn too much too fast, because I want her to stay longer.


  1. I swear--I saw your name in my Google Reader and thought "jeez, where's she been? What? Did someone die or something?" And then I clicked on your post and felt terrrrrible.

    Sorry about your aunt. But I do hope that when I die it is peacefully, naked in my own bed.

  2. I'm sorry about Aunt Diane. Sounds like the way to go though.

    We've missed you.

  3. Welcome back.

    You and yours have my deepest sympathies.

  4. I'm sorry to hear about your Aunt Diane. She sounds like an incredible lady.

    Hey, I posted two awards for you. I just love your blog and wanted you to know.

    Scribe (Linda)

  5. Thanks for your well wishing (and awards nominations!). I can't believe you're all still here. I'm feeling rather priviledged to have you all as readers.

  6. Diane found beauty in everything. I'll miss her quirky gifts, her bottomless optimism, and her postcards, always spilling over with flowery sentiments, sincere well wishes, and glitter.


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