Dear Auntie Julie

By Tim Hayakawa

Best wishes for a speedy recovery.

We missed you at Auntie Bea’s memorial service — it didn’t feel quite right without you there. Mom said since you were absent, she was the (reluctant) family matriarch for the day. It was so moving when the grand kids shared their fond memories — three of them had difficulty maintaining composure. And seeing Kay’s two sons cry as they spoke — of course, that had us all in tears. It was the first time I ever heard them speak — they’re such fine young men now despite some hardships they’ve been through.

Mom later tried to convince some grandkids to “Hurry up and get married, so we can have a happy family reunion.”

It’s been a tough year-and-a-half for our family starting with Uncle Bob, then Auntie Susan, then dear Uncle Tani, and now Auntie Bea. Please take good care of yourself! I understand like I said before that you don’t want visitors and that you scolded Mom and Dad and ordered them to leave. (Lisa and Cody told them to visit anyway. “What can she do?” they said. “Just scold you and then she’ll be fine.”)

Please understand that we’re all just sick with good, loving concern is all. We got the impression that you’d lost your will to live. But I was glad to hear that you still have that lively feistiness — hold onto that!

Just listen to me — who am I to say what you should and should not do? At your station in life, you’ve done it all and have every right to relax, feel proud and be at peace. It’s selfish of us, perhaps, to not want to see you go.

Just please, please, think of the grandkids. And all the nephews and nieces and kids, too.

And since we never know, let me take this opportunity to now say, thank you, thank you, thank you. For being there for us when we were away from home. For modeling such open, straight-talking love and concern even when it wasn’t easy. And for just having me as a teeny-tiny part of your whirlwind, vibrate life that gave me hints of possibilities outside the usual humdrum world. And also, goodbye. Or better yet, goodbye for now, for I will see you again soon, God (and you) willing.

By the way, you were always my favorite aunt (don’t tell anyone I said that). And we look forward to seeing you. Remember that we all love you dearly. And please remember that eternity is forever and there’s no big rush.

Tim Hayakawa is an accountant who blogs at familymattersinhawaii.blogspot.com.

“A SHARED SPACE” is an ongoing reader-submitted column. To share your story, email coconnor@midweek.com