Aunt Francis

My Aunt Francis died Friday night. Actually she is my great-aunt, my grandfather’s sister. Her husband, my Uncle Hank, died a few years ago. Francis and Hank had a place across the lake from my grandfather, so when we would visit we usually got to see them too. Aunt Francis taught me to get water from a well with sheer hand power, she taught me to pop popcorn over an open fire (who knew you could fix it without a microwave?), oh and she introduced me to dipping apples in caramel. Aunt Francis survived the Depression and like most children of that era, it marked her life. She would collect the crayons discarded at the end of the school year, package them up and send them off to missionaries in a developing country.

In their last few years Aunt Francis and Uncle Hank had gotten weak and frail but I shall always remember them from my childhood. Uncle Hank paddling a canoe and Aunt Francis taking us on nature walks. One of the things I am sure of is their reunion must have been sweet, not with each other but with their Maker. When Aunt Francis got sick this last time it is rumored she told her daughter, “I hope this is the end.” She had tired of the trials of this life, she was lonely for Hank and she had lived a good life. She was ready to go home with the complete assurance of where she would be when next her eyes opened. She had felt the joy of living and looked forward to the joy in dying.

I probably won’t make it to her funeral, she lived halfway across the country. But to my cousins, I am so sorry for your loss. To my Aunt Francis, rest well, I will miss you, remember you fondly and rejoice that you are in a better place.