The World Goes On

Week 14: A Beacon of Hope
This post I want to use as a tribute to my great-aunt Francis, who passed this week. It was not entirely shocking news, as she had been in the hospital for the last month or so, but I was really looking forward to seeing her upon my return to the U.S.
My great-aunt brought me home from the hospital at three days old, when she was already approaching her sixties. She did better in raising me that she knew and certainly did very good for the independent woman she was. Everywhere she and I were together, she constantly bragged on my scholastic achievements, how she hoped I "would be discovered" someday. The compliments were sometimes embarassing, you know, to be the center of attention. If I could blush, I would have looked like a beet every time a compliment came! Being the center of attention brings with it a host of expectations and responsibilities, which I somehow managed to uphold. When I was twelve and presented with an opportunity to go to a school and neighborhood far from home, she willingly helped me and stood by me; she knew I'd always want to go to college and that seizing the chance to study at a decent school and have the appropriate atmosphere to succeed was the only way.
This week was the hardest week by far. Being 5000 miles away and therefore almost powerless to help or aid (or be helped or aided) is a feeling of desparation. It's always good to take the appropriate time to grieve, but the challenge remains: the world keeps turning and it's mighty hard to keep up when you legs have been knocked out from under you.
But during her lifetime, things were not always rosy and, growing up during the Depression, there was a call for strength, resilience, and the ability to hope for better days.
My life then, if I can pull it off, shall be a tribute to her.

[Picture: my great-aunt and I last summer]