in honor of Gradene

My Aunt Gradene, my mother's only sister, passed away on Monday morning, October 11, in Fort Worth, Texas. I saw her three times in my life, and yet her passing leaves a large hole in the family. She was a cat lover, a former breeder of grey Persians, whom she would line up in a row at their feed dishes for Christmas card photographs. The feline occupancy in her home at one time was 25.

Gradene was famous for quirky and belated presents. She continued this tradition with my daughter. In February, after O.'s first Christmas, we received a box containing a stuffed lion, with a monkey and hippopotamus in its arms. By pressing the lion's paw, the whole trio sang, "In the jungle, the mighty jungle..." At first, O was terrified, but she warmed up to the gift in later months. As had been true with Gradene's gifts throughout my childhood, our cat and the dog were fascinated by the smells accompanying the present.

The first time I met my aunt, she came to visit us in Washington D.C. when I was 2 years old. There is a photograph of me doing a half-headstand position on the lawn of Monticello, where we went for an afternoon picnic. My tall, sunglass-wearing aunt looks on, her legs elegantly folded to the side as if riding the lawn side saddle.

She visited again at least 25 years later, in the Pacific Northwest, where my parents retired. At that point she had already survived reconstructive tongue surgery, treating cancer of the mouth. She was even harder to understand than she had been with her deep Texas drawl.

A few years later, I drove to Texas with my two dogs on a pilgrimage to my mother's roots. I visited with Gradene and her late husband Lester during hot spring evenings in their backyard (my dogs were not allowed in the house in deference to the last remaining Persians). Gradene could only eat through a straw, but Lester took me out to all-you-can-eat buffets around Dallas. He told stories of my mother's family, knowing that I was there in part to understand the painful experiences that led to my mother's self-imposed exile from Texas.

I wanted Gradene to meet my daughter, her only great niece, but it was not to be. I will tell O. my stories, and my mother's stories, and try to pass on what I can of Gradene's survival skills.