I loved my Aunt deeply. There was a peaceful and kind aura about her that drew not just her loved ones in, but complete strangers too. Her faith was important and so, she journeyed around Europe such as the country of Malta and would send me little postcards about places she felt connected with her spiritually. When I was born, her first reaction was one of joy and compassion.
Her view on living was to give back to others each and every day. Be that listening ear and offer comfort to those struggling silently with issues such as mental health or bereavement. One of the last times I ever spent with her was in the city of London just before she went into hospital. By then, her cancer diagnosis had all but been confirmed by doctors. She was fighting hard but never once showed any sign of pain when I was around.
She showed me round the small community church she was a priest at, smiling at the beautiful floral bouquets with blossoming flowers. From memory, they were white and liked to overspill out of the bowl they were in. Upstairs from the main room, there was a children’s playroom filled with tall cuddly toys such as Winnie the Pooh. She saw me looking at them and said to me that even though they could bring me joy, find others that would feel the same. At the time, I didn’t think much but now, I dwell on it.
She gave me a life lesson: To be kind and to support people, never mock or bully.
I lost my aunt a few months after this. Fifteen years on, I still carry her close with me each day.
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