Dan.

Several days ago I got a phone call from my mom that my Aunt Lois had fallen and that things weren't looking good for her. To be honest, she's my Great Aunt. But I rarely use the term "great" when it comes to my aunts and uncles because my dad is is an only child and my mom's brother died when he was 16.

I'll be honest again by saying that I didn't really know her that well. My grandmother (maternally) was one of six, and they all lived locally. Lois was her brother's wife. He died before I was born but she was such an important part of our family that she never remarried, kept the Wilkinson name and lived really close to most of the family.

I remember the last time I really spent time with her was several Thanksgivings ago when my mom and I, and Dale, went to her house. Ever since my grandmother died, the Wilkinsons just don't get together. Mom and I were sort of left out of a lot, and there's a famous Wilkinson Grudge that everyone talks about all the time... it refers to the fact that at any given time, someone is holding a grudge against someone and they haven't spoken for, on average, five to ten years. My grandmother was like the damn Grand Marshall of the Grudge Parade. Honest to God.

Anyway.

After that, I remember that she sent me a cross necklace when I graduated from high school. That about sums up her entire life. She lived to die, she lived to meet Jesus. Everything she did, she did for the sake of Christ. I've been told that the only fight that anyone can remember her getting into was with my great grandmother, when they were talking about my mom getting baptized. My great grandmother was a Methodist, Lois a Southern Baptist. Lois insisted my mom be baptized by submersion because that was the only "real" way to be baptized. Even her arguments were for the sake of God.


So mom and I talked about whether or not we were going to go see her and to be frank about it, I just didn't want to. I knew it was bad, I knew she wasn't going to make it and, selfishly, the process of death reminds me so much of my grandmother that I didn't think I could take it.

After being at Baptist for awhile on life support, they made the decision to take her off because she had a living will. She didn't want to live like that. Unfortunately, and I say this respectfully, she survived after being taken off of the life support. Instead of coming out of a coma and healing, she was in so much pain that when they tried to stop the morphine, they said you could see the veins in her head throbbing from the pain. Still in a coma, they got her comfortable and prepared to move her to Hospice on Robinson Road.

We got the call Monday night that if anyone wanted to come see her, we needed to go immediately. Again, I wasn't going to go. Mom had finally made the decision to go to support her family. I was proud of her. She didn't want to go for the same reasons I didn't want to go, but she said that this time, it was her cousin's mother dying and that they were there for her, so it was her responsibility to do the same. I think my grandmother would be proud of that.

She called me on the way there and I could tell she was crying but I still didn't want to go.I stayed at work. I got another phone call about 8:30 and this time, she sounded a little different. Everyone was asking for me.

The family that was there is, in essence, the most closely knit part of the Wilkinson family that's left. They haven't made much contact with us over the years but were by far the most important to me growing up. When my grandmother was alive, and her sister (my Aunt Jo), the family was together ALL the time. But once they both passed, we all went our separate ways. I contemplated going. I contemplated not going. I talk a lot about the fact that I don't have a big family because even though I do have many second and third cousins a few great aunts and uncles, we just aren't close anymore. I doubted that they remembered me at all. Intrigued that people were asking for me, I called Kate and told her I had to leave.

I got there and I was immediately overcome with emotion. Walking through the halls I felt the presence of death but I also felt the presence of God. Surely I shouldn't have been so naive as to think that in a building devoted entirely to the comfort of those about to pass away that there wouldn't be an immensely strong presence of the love and peace of Christ, but I always amaze myself at my own doubt and I welcomed the familiar feeling of spirituality and comfort. Thoughts of my grandmother flashed through my head as I passed beds filled with older women, but I reminded myself that I was not here to throw a pity party, I was here to see family. Thinking that thought alone was awkward and would take getting used to.

Mom met me in the hallway and it was here that I found out my cousin Dan was here. I could have froze. Dan is probably in his sixties and, for the last ten years, has cut off most communication with the family. Dan is Aunt Lois' son, so I shouldn't have assumed he wouldn't come, but he didn't even show up for my grandmother's funeral and they were really, really close.

Dan was always my absolute favorite. I called him my Uncle but he's really my second cousin. When I was little, I would get so excited for him to come over. It was no secret that he adored me as little girl. He was always over at our house and I have vague snapshots in my head of him holding me and walking me around. My favorite picture from my childhood is of him holding me, letting me drink out of his cup. I was a baby in the picture, but I remember him doing that when I was older, too.

We met my cousins Myra and her daughter Megan first. It had been awhile and we made small talk. Usually you say, "Hey! How are you?" when you first meet someone that you haven't seen in awhile, but I already knew how she was. I just tried to smile.

We walked to the dining room and everyone sort of stopped talking. "Is THAT Claudette's daughter?She looks just like a Wilkinson!"Oh gosh. They did, indeed, remember me. I hugged my cousins, met people who knew me but that I didn't recognize and laughed every time they called my mom Claudette. That's her middle name, the name she went by as a kid. Only the Wilkinsons call her that. It felt familiar and familial.

Last, but not least, I saw Dan. His face lit up and he came to embrace me. He just looked at me and asked me how I was, we talked. He looked much older than I remembered, but the same. His hug felt right and I felt like, for the firs time in a long time, as I stood in a room full of people, that I was standing in a room full of family.

We stayed talking for awhile but then we went to leave. We left the dining room because by this time, most everyone had migrated to Lois' room. We went to the door and sadly, it was open. I saw her for the last time. I didn't recognize her.

I thought to myself as I watched a group of young girls, similarly dressed, that it was nice to have a choir singing to her. I then realized it was almost 10 at night. This was no choir. This was her legacy. Her grandchildren, children, nieces and friends were filling her room with Hymns, prayerful song. Even in her final hours, she was surrounded by what she most held dear. She would have been proud to see that her family, the once she raised, kept their faith and kept by her side. She truly was a woman of God and it was so apparent.

I went through this night and I hadn't cried.

Dan came out of the room and we were telling him goodbye. I went to hug him but this time, he didn't let go. He just held me tight. A few moments later he said, "I love you so much." I thought this was a good time to break away. I didn't want to look him the eye, but he didn't let go. He just pulled back and stared right at me. "I'm so proud of you," he said. I lost it. I saw him with tears in his eyes and I lost it.

I got in my car and I was just overwhelmed. I thought back to how I had just seen my dad the day before, how in a year I've maybe seen him ten times. It had been ten years since I had seen Dan. And yet, in an hour, he made me believe that he loved me. He made me believe that he was proud of me and that was more than I ever could have asked for. I realized in that moment that having him say he was proud of me was one of the most amazing gifts.

We got a call about an hour after we left that she died. I tried to be sadder, but how can I be so sad? Without a doubt, she with Jesus. How much more comfort should we really need? My heart aches for my family that was so close to her. I dread the receiving, I dread the funeral but I look forward to family.