When she was born on June 8, 1913, the baby was so tiny she looked like a doll. My grandmother called her Eleanor, quite possibly Eleanora, but no one is sure about that last vowel tacked onto her name. That name didn't matter much because for the rest of her life, she would be known as Dolly. Always petite, Dolly was my grandfather's favorite child... Grandpa quickly forgot how disappointed he was at her birth because he had expected another boy. One look at his new daughter's tiny little face and minuscule fingers and toes, and he was head over heels with this little doll-baby of his.
Dolly was the child who helped everyone, who was right there when needed as my grandparents continued to have children. Over the years, Grandpa got his wish for more boys, Grandma succeeded in having more girls, but Dolly was somehow special. There was an innate quality about her... she made you pay attention to her without being demanding. On the contrary, she wanted everyone's attention so she would know what they needed her to do for them. She helped my grandmother raise the babies, she learned how to cook my grandfather's favorite meals. She was just there, always there, for everyone... and that trait continued for the rest of her life.
My generation of cousins grew up in the 1950s and 1960s..... Aunt Dolly was 39 when I was born. The prime of her life, and we all benefited from it. Before me and my cousins came along, Aunt Dolly had gotten married to the love of her life, as she called him. She lived with him in California.... they were so happy, she always said. But then she caught him with another woman and Dolly was devastated. Absolutely crushed. She moved back to the family home in New York, had the marriage annulled, and never looked back. She never said one bad word about her ex-husband, only to tell her sisters that he had made a mistake that she knew she couldn't forgive, much less forget. If someone asked her if she would ever get married again, her answer was "I married the right man years ago, but it turned out wrong and now I'm fine the way I am, thank you."
Aunt Dolly's life was ours, all ours. She never dated again, never re-married. We, us cousins, were her children. And she loved all of us so much that each and every one of us was certain that we were her favorite, that we (each of us) were the center of her world, the most important person in her universe. And we all believed that, for all of our days and years with her.
Aunt Dolly passed away yesterday. She was 106. The last surviving child of my paternal grandparents. For all of her life, Aunt Dolly was happy, healthy, resourceful, helpful, attentive to a fault... her family was indeed her entire life. To each of my generation of cousins, she was our best friend, our confidant, our second mother, our protector, our guardian, our muse, our playmate, our one-and-only and one-of-a-kind Aunt Dolly. She taught us table manners and social skills. She taught us to respect the family name and the legacy that began with our grandparents sailing across the ocean on a ship with nothing but the clothes on their backs and a small satchel. They were searching for the American Dream and they found it... through hard work and sacrifice and 'the grace of God,' as Aunt Dolly always said.
Aunt Dolly was beautiful, patient and kind, generous and loving, she was everything to all of us. And after having had her in the family for so many years, it seems impossible to even begin to understand the world of this family without her.
I found that I couldn't cry, or even be sad, when I got the phone call yesterday about her passing. After all, at 106 years of age, even as healthy as she always was, a body just gets tired. And Aunt Dolly had been very tired this past couple of weeks, going so far as to voice those words out loud. I want to believe in life after death. I want to believe that Aunt Dolly is now with her sisters and brothers... Jaye, Angela, Edie, Tony, Mino, Larry, Jimmy, and my dad Angelino. And, of course, my grandparents. In my mind's eye, I see them all sitting around a heavenly table... macaroni and meatballs, salad and nuts and bread and Italian pastries... and as everyone sits and is enjoying their meal together, my Aunt Dolly is hovering behind them all, asking them if they need more gravy or macaroni... another meatball... one more slice of bread... a cannoli...
I cannot stress how beautiful Aunt Dolly was... her heart was huge, her personality was electric, her manners were proper, her style was classic, and she was so graceful in her movements. No one could find fault with this unimaginable creation of my grandparents. How did we all get so lucky to have her in our lives for so long? How was it even possible to imagine that she eventually wouldn't be there for us, to correct us when we were wrong, to console us when we were sad, to make us laugh when we needed it, and to make us proud to be part of our family. "You're a LaConte!" she would tell us... "Never forget that!!"
And if we did, over the years, forget who we were and which family we came from, Aunt Dolly was always the first, the very first, to forgive. "No matter what... you're still a LaConte... you're still family."
And now, I'm crying. Aunt Dolly will be so very much missed by us all.
No comments:
Post a Comment