Dena, Mike & Terry: Two aunts and an uncle

          

Yesterday (well, the day before yesterday by the time you read this) my sister Shawn sent me this recent photo of our Aunt Dena, Uncle Mike & Aunt Terry.  Our dad’s two sisters and brother.

I have no real reason for sharing it here, other than I like looking at it.  It’s the first photo I’ve seen of the three together since my niece Sophia’s first birthday party 16 years ago.

Aunt Dena (on the left) is the oldest, in her upper eighties, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at her.  She’s always been trim, fit, a very health conscious person.   I remember at my dad’s 30th birthday party, held in our large backyard and attended by over a hundred people, I was charged with the dirty task of emptying all the ashtrays.  (It was 1967, so I’m sure you can imagine.)  Anyway, I noticed Aunt Dena was the only adult not smoking, and when I brought it up to my mom, she said “Your Aunt Dena’s always been a health nut—she’s going to outlive all of us!” 

I never forgot that, and the older I get the more I believe it.  You know, other than exchanging Christmas letters with Aunt Dena my adult life, we never really talked.  And then in January 2017, I ran into her back home at a Giant Eagle, and we sat on a bench inside the store and chatted for an hour.  I learned more in that hour then I’d known my whole life.

Aunt Dena, Uncle Mike (bottom) and Aunt Terry, 1942.  That’s my dad on the far right    

My Uncle Mike & I have always had some sort of implied understanding.  He would look at me, nod his head and not say a word, I’d do the same.   But even though we’ve never sat down and had a real chat, I’ve never felt distance between us.

At my dad’s funeral in February 2001, I think I cried harder there than I ever did before or since.  I don’t understand it, I was much closer to my mom but at her services I didn’t shed a tear.  (I bawled at night instead, for weeks.) 

But standing in front of my dad’s casket, I couldn’t stop myself and wept for a long time.  The entire time, my Uncle Mike stood behind me, his hands on my shoulders.  The entire time.  I hope he knows how much that meant to me.   He & my dad were very close.

And finally, my fun, ornery Aunt Terry.  For years she would greet us kids—“Hi Duke, hi Dougie, hi Shawnie, hi Stevie…”  and then give me these long hugs.  One time, we were at some family event and I said to my mom “I know Aunt Terry loves all of us the same, but have you ever noticed how she hugs me compared to the other kids?  I always get a maternal feeling from her that I can’t explain.”

Mom said “When you were around a year old, you were a holy terror.  I’m not kidding Doug, there were times I was ready to kill you.  But we were still living with your Grandma & Pap Morris then, and your Aunt Terry was still living at home, so you pretty much became hers until we moved out when your sister Shawn came along.  Still think I’m Mother of the Year?”  Haha!  Yes Mom, I do.

Aunt Dena with my brother Duke, and me with Aunt Terry, Sept 1962