Day 9: My Aunt Cindy

I woke up to my mom sitting on edge of my bed. She was quick to tell me my new cousin was born that late November day. How could this day be any better? As a ten year old with much to learn, I was anticipating a day at the Science Museum and Omni-theater presentation of Mount St. Helens and to top it off my mom was coming as a room-mother. I had been looking forward to this adventure for a whole year as my sister who was the eldest child, and thus the first to experience all that our elementary school had to offer, had shared of the adventures the museum held and had the privilege of our mother escorting her class as well. This anticipation for the day had been building so when my mom followed up her fabulous news with the single word “but…” I immediately read her face and could tell this day would be different than expected. She proceeded to tell me that there had been some complication with my new cousin’s birth and my uncle asked if my mom would be willing to come to the hospital to care for her sister, my beloved aunt Cindy. Cindy was my mother’s youngest sister and a mere 17 years older than I. As a six year old I was her flower girl and she and my uncle John often hosted my sister, brother and I at their townhouse complete with the community pool and a cool video game called Pong and they had taken me to my first movie, “The Sound of Music”. I was disappointed. My young mind didn’t consider what this meant for my aunt; rather I quickly focused on my own demise of mom not being there to see Mount St. Helens up close and personal alongside of me. Before I knew it my mom and dad had left the house and left the three of us to finish getting ready and head off to school.

In the absence of parents, there was the typical “no-parents-at-home” sparring going on between us three kids and somehow my brother and sister left before me to walk over to the neighbors on our way to school. As I finally made my way out of the house I noticed my sister and brother running down the block toward school and more importantly not waiting for me. I didn’t question their motives for my mind was filled with joy for the day. I babbled on and on to my friends about my new baby cousin as we made our way through the neighborhood, only to stop at the busy road and wait for the crossing guards and the security of the orange flags. Arriving at school, I hung up my winter coat and continued to share the news of a new baby cousin to anyone and everyone who would listen. Before the bell rang to begin the day, Mrs. Josephson came to me and asked me to follow her to the nurses’ office. Curiously I followed her down to the office where she sat me down and said these exact words: “Amy, this morning your Aunt Cindy…” to which I finished her sentence “yes! My Aunt Cindy had a baby!” Hesitantly she said “yes, but then there were complications and she got very, very sick and died.” I was immediately reunited with my sister and brother who had been bluntly told the news by the neighbor kids repeating what their mother had just heard on our church’s prayer line. They had sworn my friends to secrecy and ran to school to do their own investigation.

The next few hours and days were a blur. Our pastor’s wife picked us up and the four of us cried through prayers together. At some point we spent time at my aunt and uncle’s home and waited for family to pour in from out of town. I remember seeing my parents and aunts and grandparents cry. Really cry. I remember the cocoa machine at the funeral home. I remember seeing my aunt’s lifeless body and the burial days later in South Dakota. I remember thinking that even though I was very sad to lose my beloved aunt that "everyone keeps saying how young she was... she was 27... that's not that young." How wrong I was.

Then there was my new baby cousin. The day after Cindy died, we went to the hospital and see little Danny. How beautiful this baby was! He was a healthy 9 lbs baby boy in an incubator next to tiny preemies. My brother, sister and I were even allowed to hold him. He was life resulting in the death of my aunt. We celebrated and cried simultaneously. Balancing life and death I'm sure I grew a year or two in that moment alone.

As I've grown older and come to love my aunts and uncles all the more, I often wonder what our family and my life would be like if Cindy were still alive. As people describe her joy and zest for life and for Christ, I'm inspired to be more like her. The verse on her tombstone reads "For me to live is Christ and to die is gain." Philippians 1:21 May that reflect my life as well.

ps - The picture posted is of my Aunt Cindy and I at my grandparents farm.