Phyllis

My one true constant, my role model, my security, my Phyllis.
She was more than an aunt. To call her my "aunt" negates the magnitude of her impact on my life. With no children of her own, she nurtured me with everything she had.

As a child I did not appreciate the level of her generosity. She picked up walnuts to earn enough money to buy me a winter coat. She wore yard sale clothes to afford clothing for me. Phyllis dedicated her life to building me up where others had torn me down.  I must have seemed like a never-ending project; in constant need of repair and reassurance. She showed me how to "fake it till you make it"; look like you have it together even when you are falling apart.

I had no idea how beautiful she really was. Behind those dark eyes and red lipstick was a person who placed everyone's needs before her own. She was my family's glue. She held us together; making sense out of the whole mess.My attempt to replicate her sentimentality is a cheap knock off.
 
How do you commemorate a soul so giving and kind; the type of person who would pack Paul's newly restored hot rod with the outcasts of society, in hopes of getting them to attend church? The one who was the first to gather a care package for families who lost their home in a fire. Or the woman who sat and cried with me while we watched a telethon about starving children in Africa, for which we gathered every cent we could find in order to call in a pledge. Looking back, she knew that our small donation would probably never even reach those in true need, but she had taught me to do what I can, where I am.

When she became ill and disease robbed her body of grace and dignity; erased her glamour and forced her to rely on others for the simplest of tasks, she was still my Phyllis. When old friends stopped coming to see her, she was given the heartbreaking gift of realizing who her true friends were. The one who would come to her to cut her hair and let her still feel like Elizabeth Taylor, if only for a moment. The ones who would bring Paul food so she didn't have to worry that he was getting to eat a decent meal.

There are things that I have done that I know would have disappointed her greatly: my choice to not indoctrinate my children with religion. She would have given me the silent treatment till I complied. Her guilt would have been the only guilt that would have worked on me. You're welcome, kids.

In her last week before she died, I believe she willed herself to continue breathing until I could be with her; so she could hear me say "I love you" one more time. I believe that she visited me as she was leaving this world, however hokey that is. I've never grieved anyone or anything as I have Phyllis. I'm so thankful that I did not have to find out how my life would have turned out without her. She taught me compassion and how to love without condition. She taught me to be generous even when I had little to give.

So I bake her giant chocolate chip cookies. I prefer my hair to be big and my lips to be red. I love Gone With the Wind and the smell of books.Unfortunately for me, I did not inherit her stunning beauty, but I take it as the highest compliment when told that I am like her.I make a feeble attempt to honor her with who I am becoming. Her legacy, for me, was life-saving. I am a ripple .