Like several of my my mother’s sisters, she had a nickname. Her nickname was Ginger. Most likely it was due to her red hair color, but I like to think it had a little something to do with her personality as well.
My Aunt Ginger was the youngest of six children, five girls and one boy. I’m not going to pretend that I knew a lot about her, but what I did know I liked and respected. She was hard working, opinionated and raised a family of four children, one being my cousin Red. She worked outside of the home and also took care of her home. It was a small MCM three bedroom ranch and there were three girls and one boy. The boy had his own room and my three girl cousins shared one of the larger rooms, sort of like the Brady Bunch sisters. How this family of six shared one bathroom was beyond me, but like the rest of the house, it was always kept tidy.
I don’t have a lot of memories of her, but I do recall the time I was staying over and I had a bad skateboard accident. I limped back to her house, bent eye glasses in hand and begged her not to tell my mom. To the best of my knowledge, she never did and we managed to fix my mangled glasses well enough that I was never questioned about them. Being the youngest of her siblings, she always seemed to be the hip cool mom of the group and not telling on me supported that notion of mine.
Other things that made me think she was hip and cool were some of the dishes she prepared. I had never heard of a casserole until I had one at her house. To me, it was the most amazing thing I had ever tasted. She shared the recipe with me and it has become a family favorite of my kids as well. The other thing that was magical to me was this cake that had colored stripes in it. She would bake a cake mix, something else foreign to me and poked holes in it before pouring a Jell-O mixture over it and then topped it with Cool Whip, it was phenomenal! My mom was never that hip and cool.
After my mom passed, I would make visits to Aunt Ginger when I was missing my mom. I enjoyed our visits, but she did have a tendency to be a negative Nellie. After she was done telling me everything I was doing wrong in my life, I didn’t miss my mom so much anymore. Odds are, she would have been telling me the same things as well. No matter, it was always nice to walk up to her front door and feel welcomed, even though Red no longer lived there. I always knew I could drop by unannounced and be welcomed in for a pop and a chat. Priceless.
As the years rolled on, I didn’t stop by as much, but I managed to get out there from time to time. It was nice to chat about memories of my mom and to ask her about her kids and grand kids and talk about mine. Over the past ten years, when Red would be in town, I would go visit her at her folks house. Five years ago, Red brought her folks to our house for a long overdue visit. You see, Aunt Ginger and my uncle didn’t like to venture our way much, but I’m so glad they made it this one last time.
Right after this visit, my father took a turn for the worse. Dementia had reared its ugly head and within four months, he passed away. Oddly enough, during that last visit, Ginger had said that she had the dementia and following my dad’s struggles, hers began. My uncle had heart issues and her ability to take care of him and herself became too much of a struggle and they ended up in assisted living. The change of living situation did not sit well with her and her challenges increased. The silver lining of this all was that I made more of an effort to visit them.
After my father passed, I had a need to visit Ginger more and more. I knew her memory was slipping away from her and I felt a need to be there for her since I could no longer be there for my father. At a family reunion, I came up behind her and started rubbing her shoulder with one hand. It was wonderful for me to hear her say that it felt so good. I said, “You know, I used to be a massage therapist.” Her response, “Yes, and I also know you have two hands so use them both.” See what I mean about Ginger not just being a nickname due to hair color?
Soon, both she and my uncle faced numerous challenges and they ended up in separate living situations. I had a need to and simultaneously a dread of visiting her. It was good to take her sweets and her favorite yellow roses, but I also took her something I had done with my dad. I took her a black velvet coloring poster so we could do something together and not have to worry about talking. Like my father, the dementia was taking her places that could be difficult for me to listen to. She would talk about my mom and other relatives as if they were right there and it would make me wonder if somehow, she really could talk to my mom.
Worst part was when it came time to leave. There were times that she would beg me to take her with her. It broke my heart, but I kept my composure as I told her that her daughter was coming soon and if I took her with me, she wouldn’t be able to find her. After we would say our goodbyes and I was out of her sight, I would break down because all I really wanted to do was scoop her up and take her home with me, but that simply was not possible.
I was always amazed that she would remember me when I would visit her. My own father didn’t remember me, but she did. One time I walked into a common room at the nursing home looking for her and even though she didn’t have her glasses on, she called out my name. You would have thought that I had won the lottery, I was that thrilled that she knew who I was. For a moment, I felt like she was speaking for my parents and they all knew who I was and were glad to see me.
On another visit, I took her donuts. It was then that my belief that her nickname not only had to do with the color of her hair, was confirmed. Ginger had one donut in her mouth and as she contemplated her next one, she ran her fingers over them. Red made a remark, “Mom, you have to eat the ones you touch.” So what did Ginger start doing? She looked up at us in the most mischievous manner and proceeded to touch every single donut. What a spicy character.
The other silver lining to all that happened was that I have been able to be more a part of family gatherings with my cousins. To be invited meant the world to me. Aside from Red, I never did have much of any familiarity with them and it was nice to be included. Also, at the family gatherings I would learn so much about my mom, things I never would have thought to ask about. It was like receiving a treasure trove of knowledge about a woman I feel like I barely got to know before she left this world, something I will be eternally grateful for.
Due to a series of family challenges, Ginger was moved to a nursing home in Michigan, a place near Red’s home. Before moving her, they had a gathering where family photo albums were shared. Surprisingly, Ginger could recall very specific details about the events in these photos. She was still in there somewhere and could recall the colors of the bridesmaid dresses at my mother’s wedding. Even though she had become more prone to sun downers and mindless chants, I was able to confirm that she was indeed correct about the color of the dresses.
I had always made the remark that I looked more like her than any of her own children did. It was at that farewell party that people started to agree with me. I will always remember bending down next to her and calling her my Twinsie. I looked into her eyes and saw my mom, I saw myself and I saw the beauty of all that was Ginger. I saw a devoted wife, mother, grandmother and great-grandmother. I saw someone who remembered the color of my mother’s bridesmaid dresses when she saw a black and white wedding photo. I saw someone who made a point to be a recorder of her family’s history and important dates, names and places. Basically, I saw me and who I hope to be, sans the dementia.
As I said my good bye to Ginger, I knew there was a strong possibility I would never see her again. I hoped to go to Michigan for a visit, but it was uncertain. As her eyes met mine, I told her that I loved her and that I would see her again soon. With a smile, she said that she loved me too and then I kissed and hug her one last time as I told my Twinsie good bye.
Sadly, I was right. Time was not on our side and I did not get to see Ginger again. Two days ago, I participated in her last rites via a zoom meeting and early this morning, she passed away. No more pain, no more confusion, only peace. Ginger, wherever you may be I hope you know how grateful I am and always will be for knowing your spicy self. Thank you for telling me things about my mom that I might have never known. Thank you for teaching me how to make a casserole and Jell-O/Cool Whip cake. Most of all, thank you for giving me a glimpse of how beautiful I will be in my old age, because you know, I look more like you than any of your kids do. I will miss you Twinsie. Peace be with you.
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