MY RETARDED AUNT
I had not seen my aunt in thirteen years. The last time I had seen her was on a visit with my wife. About an hour after meeting my aunt, my wife would die in a motorcycle accident. I had been to the area a couple of times since then but was not sure where my aunt lived so I did not attempt to visit her.
My last show before moving to Los Angeles was in Anniston, Alabama. This is the hometown of my relatives. I called my cousins and let them know I was in town. I visited with them and they attended my comedy shows. I asked about my aunt and my cousin told me she was living in the nursing home across the street from my hotel.
I have known my aunt my whole life. She is about thirteen years my senior. My family never lived in her town so my exposure to her was confined to a few weeks a summer when my mother and father would visit their parents, my grandparents. My aunt lived with her mother, my paternal grandmother, until the day my grandmother died. My paternal grandfather preceded my grandmother in death by a decade. My grandmother was a devout Christian. She attended church everyday. She was also the most racist and vile person I have ever met in my life. She was always kind to me and my siblings but she treated everyone else, especially my grandfather and my aunt, with a chilling resentment and hostility. She seemed to revel in calling my aunt retarded loudly and as often as possible. She would often complain, in the presence of my aunt, the reason she did not have a life was because she had to be "chained" to the retard! She was verbally and emotionally abusive to my aunt. Rumor has it she was also physically abusive outside others presence. I remember on a couple of occasions seeing her viciously slap my aunt across the face for some perceived slight. I do not remember exactly when my grandmother died but I believe it was in my late twenties. She died a slow painful death brought on by cancer. It slowly ate it's way through her face. No one should die in such a manner, but honestly, if someone has too it should have been her.
I am not close to my family. It was dysfunctional as a child and continued to be as I grew up and moved away. I have been estranged from my parents at numerous times in my life for years at a time. This last estrangement has lasted twelve years to date. It will end with their passing. I cannot find a reason to include them in my life. They bring nothing but negativity and fear to the table. It seemed as a sickly child I was the only adult in the household. These circumstances did not result in much of a childhood. I reveal this to explain that I do not have fond childhood memories like many others. I do not have horrible memories, other than my own sickness, but I do not have the fond memories of family I hear others share. My goal from the age of ten was to be an adult and leave my family home. I worked full time in high school to avoid going home. My mother often stated, as a teenager, I treated our home as a hotel. She was jealous she did not have such freedom. I have been afforded few opportunities to sit with family and reminisce about my childhood. I was always a star student and well liked but this never changed the family dynamic. During my childhood I was not sad or depressed. It was just stressful and my eyes were always focused on my exit.
I remember spending time on the porch with my aunt during our summer visits. I could always strike up a conversation with anyone and she rarely had conversations so we would spend quite a few hours conversing. She would be shelling peas or playing with the newest technology, the calculator. She was also physically handicapped and found it difficult to get around. I always took it on myself to report back to her about all the things I had seen. She had never left her home absent one visit to our home in Texas when I was in elementary school. She had led a very sheltered life and I took it as my duty to tell her the things I had seen in the neighborhood, the state and the world. She always listened with awe and asked questions. She would always caution me to "be careful out there."
When my grandmother died my aunt took over the house with supervision from my uncle who lived next door. My aunt would eventually marry a special-needs man. She finally felt loved and whole and you could see the joy in her eyes as she spoke of married life. I remember meeting her husband once. A few years later her husband would die of a heart attack. She seemingly moved on as if this is simply part of life. She would eventually move to a low-rent assisted living facility. This is where my wife and I would visit her on that fateful day. I remember the way my aunt's eyes lit up as she met my majestic wife. She could not believe a woman was riding her own motorcycle. We had a very nice visit. Fast forward twelve years, and with my estrangement from my family, I did not know where my aunt lived or even if she was still living. Then came the discussion with my cousin. She was across the street. I was both excited and anxious. I wanted to run and see her but I was also frightened what I might find.
Since the death of my grandmother my aunt was like a kid in a candy store. She was free of the emotional and physical abuse and this allowed her to function without fear. She was essentially home-bound but she watched television when she wanted, she talked on the phone as long as she desired and she colored in her coloring books as often as she chose. This was heaven for her. She was content. My cousin stated she had to move from the assisted living facility to the nursing home because a visitor repeatedly smoked in the unit and got her evicted. My aunt is now in her mid-sixties. I had no idea her condition. But I decided I would make the trek across the street and "sit and visit" for awhile.
I entered the nursing home I had passed a hundred times over the years. It was average as nursing homes go... not too nice.... not too bad. As I entered the nursing home I realized I did not know her married last name. I imagined no one on the staff would know her as Aunt Sue. I called my cousin and asked her married name. The staff directed me to her room. As I entered her room my heart was beating out of my chest. I was anxious. Perspiration had found its way on to my brow. I turned the corner and her bed was empty. I asked a staff member where she might be. They had no idea. I took a moment. If I were my Aunt Sue where would I be? I headed to the activity room. This is where they keep the crayons and coloring books.
As I approached the activity room I could see her sitting in her wheelchair intently coloring away just like it was forty five years ago. One other lady sat across from her crocheting. I stood in the doorway as I raised my voice, "I got an arrest warrant for Aunt Sue!" I could hear her mumble, "What in the hell?" as she raised her head from her artwork. She stared at me for no more than three seconds before a smile stretched across her face, "Well God Almighty is that you, Tony? Get over here and hug my neck right this minute!" As I hurried to her she excitedly told the lady across from her, "That's my nephew, Tony!" The ladies eyes never left her crotchet work.
We talked for about an hour. She told me, in detail, about her life since the last time we had visited. Every time her mother came up she leaned in and whispered her statements as if grandma might pop her upside the head for talking out of turn. At one point she leaned in an giggled, "I know a secret." I took the bait, "What is that?" She looked deep into my eyes, "You still talk to your wife, don't ya?" I nodded, "Yes I do." She leaned in and whispered so only I could hear, "I talk to her sometimes too." I sat frozen for a few seconds as a warm rush came over me. She broke the silence, "What have you been up to since the last time I seen ya?" I told her I was a comedian. She looked at me and shook her head with a smile, "I remember when me and you used to sit on the porch and talk. You would always say you were gonna be a famous comedian someday." I sat there frozen. I had no such memory. Evidently she saw my confusion, "Oh yeah, you used to tell me jokes. You would stand there on the top step of the porch and tell me jokes when I was sittin' in my porch chair." In that second, as she described the scene, the memories came rushing back. I could see me making her laugh. I was laughing. We were having the time of our life. It was just her and I. Those memories had been buried for over forty years and they emerged as my eyes filled with tears. It was one of the few moments I remember being a kid. My parents were not around so I was free of stress. Grandma was not around so she was free of stress. We were laughing so hard we were crying.
In that moment I jumped up from my chair, "I'm gonna get something from my car I want to show you!" I returned a few moments later with my laptop. I opened it and clicked on a few icons. Up came the video of my set at Brad Garrett's comedy club at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas. My aunt looked on in amazement, "Well Lord have mercy, Tony is on the tv." As Brad Garrett introduced me she whispered, "That is the man from that tv show." I smiled and nodded. We watched for a few moments before I turned it off. She matter-of-factly stated, "Just like you said. Now you are a famous comedian." We laughed and laughed. We visited for awhile longer before I exited. We exchanged phone numbers. As I hugged her neck I asked her how she liked it at the nursing home. She looked around the room in all directions and then whispered as if my grandmother was approaching, "They bring me food, I got a tv, they let me color when I want. I love it here!"
The next morning on the way out of town I realized I had my comedy t-shirts with me and stopped to drop one off for her. She was asleep when I entered her room so I left the t-shirt on her bed so she would see it when she awoke. A few hours later, as I traveled back toward Texas, I received a phone call from her thanking me for the "wonderful" t-shirt.
A few weeks have passed since that visit. I am now residing in Los Angeles. I was on a walk the other day admiring the mountains surrounding the city when my phone rang. I answered. It was my Aunt Sue she immediately began speaking, "Tony they got any stores out there in California?" I responded affirmatively. She continued, "I never had anything from California. If you are out in one of those stores and see anything I might like you can send it to me." I assured her I would send her something. Then there was a pause. I inquired what was on her mind. She answered, "I always wanted to ask you. You was always going a hundred miles an hour. You would go and go until you dropped. I always knew you would do real good. You just had it in you. What I was wonderin' was what always kept you going?" I knew the answer to this question. My wife had helped me discover the answer. I simply stated, "I wanted to do as much as I could do before I died." She paused for awhile before she responded, "That's what I thought. That why me and you always got along so good. We are just alike." I smiled as tears filled my eyes. Then she hung up.
We both realized our dreams. She has run a marathon. I have run a sprint. But we both... have run the race. Thanks for the memories, Aunt Sue. I'll keep my eyes peeled when I am in the stores. I'll find you something special.
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