Auntie Jean
April 30, 2024
Dearest Solomon,
I was having a quick walk when Uncle Dave sent me a text to tell me that Auntie Jean had passed away. I called Grandma Patsy and she could barely speak. It didn’t matter that we knew this was inevitable.
At 84, and after a long battle with illness, she’s finally at peace. I’m grateful that I got to see her last month and was hoping we would have one more chance in July when we were all coming out. But things rarely work out the way you plan — especially in these circumstances.
Try to relish what you have when you have it.
Auntie Jean was Grandma Patsy’s only sister — older by just two years. They were so different and so similar, it’s uncanny.
Auntie Jean. Jane. Jean. Jena. She had so many names, to so many people. But she was likely known by thousands more. She was an institution, like Grandma Patsy, at Carvel for 30 years. The two of them haunted that store taking one shift or the other. Back and forth, over and over, day in and day out.
Aside from being sisters, they were co-workers — working side by side and supporting each other in one way or another. There’s no shortage of times from my childhood that I can’t but thank Auntie Jean for. She’d cover the store, making a little time for us here and there.
I can barely remember the first time I met her (I was 3), but if you asked her she could tell you instantly. It was the first time I visited Guyana. She loved to tell the story of how I loved to play with the baby chickens after seeing them for the first time. She would do her little laugh and smile ear to ear when she told that story.
Auntie Jean was always thin and svelte. I never saw her gain weight one way or the other. She reminded me much of Ma, but looking at pics of my grandpa I can see the resemblance there, too. Ironically, at the hospital, they thought your Grandma Patsy was her daughter!
For all their differences, though, they were also very much alike. They both had big hearts. They both cared for their children and grandchildren. They both worked tirelessly. They both touched more people’s lives than they’ll ever realize or be recognized for.
The last time I saw your Aunt was early in April. I was lucky enough to sneak away for the weekend after a conference. She was staying right near the house at Nyack Hospital. That night, she was moved to a new place in New Jersey.
We got to see her in both spots. Grandma brought her a bunch of different foods. She ate some, but her throat was hurting her. She wasn’t comfortable and wanted to leave — I can certainly understand. She was frail and fatigued. At least once she said she was ready to go see Alfred (her dad).
Over the last several decades, there was no shortage of disagreements, arguments, and even the occasional full-on blackout of all contact between Auntie Jean and the rest of the family. But that day, I saw Grandma feed, massage, and care for her like nothing had happened.
In the end, after 80 years of sisterhood, that was all that mattered. There wasn’t any more madness, friction, or forgiveness required. That’s the power of family or maybe just the part that makes your Grandma and much of our family so great.
As I left her room that day, I knew in my heart that it was probably the last time I would see Auntie Jean. I said goodbye. I said I love you. I said we’ll come back to see you — she asked to see you.
I’m glad you’re not in pain anymore, Auntie Jean. I’m glad you’re back with Ma and Alfred. I’m glad you can see us now. Rest now.
