ima...gin...ation

Originally written on November 4, 2011 and updated on January 9, 2012

Gin was my Mother's last remaining sibling. She passed away in the middle of the night on Sunday, January 8, 2012.

When I was little, my family spent summer days at Joslin Lake with my Barth cousins. On one of those afternoons, as I was sitting in the shallow water making mud pies, I was also watching my older cousins and siblings as they were standing on their heads farther in the lake. I didn't know that you couldn't breathe underwater, but I sure tried to stand on my head in the lake that day. In my yellow, ruffled, polka-dot bikini, I floundered and flopped around and most likely swallowed a minnow along with some yummy lake water. Uncle Bob snatched me out of the water and took me into the cottage, where my Mother and Aunt dried me off and tried to calm me. Aunt Gin asked me what I saw under the water, and I stuttered, "N-n-n-nothing" to which she replied, "Why...I bet you saw an Octopus under there. Did you see an Octopus?" I thought about it, nodded my head, said yes, and giggled.  Within minutes, we had turned that Octopus into a purple one.

That was the beginning of my imaGINation...
and my lifelong repartee with Aunt Virginia. Every time I walked toward her, my goal was to make her laugh.

I could not make her laugh the morning of November 4, 2011, but I had hoped that my constant commenting eased whatever physical or emotional pain she was in. 

During my final visit with Gin on Friday, January 6, 2012, I sat next to her for about 15 minutes and calmly babbled about this and that. I believe that she could hear me and understand me, because when I told her that I left Skip in the car, like a dog, she reacted by softly laughing, but it was that laugh of hers that said, "Oh, Mary!" 

There was a hospice worker in the room with us, and she was rubbing scented oil on Gin's feet to calm her while some medication worked its magic. So, I told the Octopus in Joslin Lake story to them both and then told my Aunt...my Godmother...that I would remember that story always...I will remember her always.