The Zog Blog

My father’s sister Terri passed away Sunday afternoon in her home in Brewer, ME. She was 60. She is survived by her husband, children, and two granddaughters.

What that doesn’t tell you about my aunt Terri is that she made the best cream puffs this side of the known universe. My dad’s family got together every summer for a “feed” until the past few years, and I’d wait practically the whole year for those damn cream puffs. I don’t know how she made them, and I kind of don’t want the mystery spoiled. They’re mythical cream puffs, better dreamed about and savored once a year. Except, of course, not anymore.

I could be distracted from my cream puff dreams by her Chex Mix. Salty, a little spiced. Perfect for munching by the handful.

One year at the reunion, she walked through Lynn’s screen door. We were all standing in the dining room talking, and she was going outside for some reason I forget. She turned around and walked, realizing too late that the screen was shut, and went right through it. She was embarrassed to say the least, but the rest of us thought it was pretty funny.

Terri, more than any of the rest of us, inherited her mother Lois’ ability with crafts. I’m sure she could knit, crochet, sew clothes, and the like, but what I remember most about her handiwork were the… You know, I’m not sure what to call them. Objects? She could make anything. Little snowmen, complete with small hand-created brooms, coal buttons, rosy cheeks, on a snow-covered base. Dolls. Bears. Painted tins. She’d go into a craft store like Michael’s and know what to do with all of it, and be able to actually use all of it well.

She worked for decades in a legal office (I think?), through carpal tunnel before I’d ever heard of it before, through Lois’ long set of illnesses, through a serious illness of her own this year that was (to my knowledge) unrelated to her death. It probably never occurred to her to stay home.

I wish I’d known her better. I wish I knew what she was like as a girl, as a young mother, when she relaxed after a long day at work. I wish I had more than these small vignettes to share with you. She lived a couple of hours away from me, so we didn’t see each other very often. I remember her at holidays, at our annual reunion. I remember her food, and her smile, and her quick tongue, and her loving touch with her children and grandchildren. I remember her taking care of everyone else, over and over again, and I hope she is at least having a peaceful rest while someone else cares for her, now.

Trackback URI | Comments RSS