One of my favorite people died tonight. As a child I was lucky enough to have a warm, loving, supportive family AND my Aunt Fran. Technically not a relative, our families intertwined early, fast, and solid -- my mother & she, her daughter & I ... best friends. We shared carpools and birthdays, holidays and trips to NYC, boisterous games & hilarious cooking catastrophes. I think I slept as often at their house as I did my own. Even after we moved to different cities, her's was my extended family in all but genetics.
But it's more than just childhood memories and a sense of family. Aunt Fran grabbed hold of me early, with unbounded love and a force of nature brand new to me. She called things as she saw them, fearlessly packed a zillion children in her station wagon for excursions both tame & wild, welcomed a degree of happy chaos, disheveled countertops, and strong opinions that were utterly novel to me, coming from my calm Episcopalian life. My family was just as loving, but Aunt Fran was way louder about it. She laughed loud, she advocated loud, she loved loud, and she lived loud. With opinions and beauty and just the right amount of exaggeration. Without apologies. She offered me another way to experience a family, to experience life, to experience myself. And looking back, I realize just how important it is to have lots of different loving perspectives. No matter how wonderful my family, Fran gave me a delightful new view I never would have seen otherwise.
I haven't seen her often since my 20's and I'm terrible at keeping in touch. But I have consciously honored her gifts to me my whole adult life, particularly my parenting years. I embraced her happy chaos (not to mention her disheveled countertops) with glorious vengeance -- every single time I pack a zillion kids into my car or kitchen or whisk them on a wild road trip I offer Fran my gratitude. And early on I promised myself to pay it forward, to offer unbounded love & support to the various children who come through my front door. All are welcome in my house, which means my floors are always dirty & the noise-level deafening. But those crowded, rambunctious moments are also my most joyful. And being brave enough to advocate for a child, especially one who's not biologically my own, has offered exponential gifts. Fran taught me all that. She welcomed me in the same way, nurtured & widened & improved my life immeasurably. I will always love her dearly and be forever grateful. And I wish her an eternity of peace.
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