Me in '23

Aunt Mary

June 10, 2023

For more times than I care to count in the past six months, my beloved Aunt Mary was knocking at heaven’s door. But she refused to enter because she never lost hope that somehow, some way, she would get better.

It wasn’t just wishful thinking. Mary expected to rally. That’s who she was.

Her unwavering strength of mind, body and soul was one for the books. She was the embodiment of that rare person who never gives up – no matter what.

Even after falling last year, struggling through painful physical therapy and so many unrelated complications, she fought to win.

Last Sunday, Aunt Mary entered hospice care near her home of six decades. On Monday, my sisters and I drove to Canton, Ohio, near Akron. It was a trip we had been meaning to take for quite some time, which was clearly running out for our aunt.

The parklike setting outside her room at the Aultman Women’s Board Compassionate Care Center was lovely. Trees and greenery dotted the landscape with inviting benches and beautiful walking paths. A sanctuary for the living that offered refuge from the inevitable.

Four days later, on Thursday, June 8, at 11:30 p.m., Mary left us, likely because some new visitors were waiting for her at the back door outside her room.

And I’m pretty certain Mary was never one to ignore visitors of any species.

Her bed faced out toward the park. There were all kinds of birds perched on a yellow feeder hanging from a shepherd’s hook. Cardinals. Blue Jays. Geese. Even a deer, squirrels and a pesky groundhog got in on the action.

I like to think that maybe – just maybe – these animals represented people she had loved most in her life who had left this world and were waiting for her to join them. One last visit, appearing at the back door and calling her home to find eternal peace and comfort.

1954: On her wedding day.
2004: Their 50th anniversary.
2016: Mary and her family.
2000: Mary with the last of the old guard. (My parents are front and center.)

Like her husband, Adeeb, one of my dad’s younger brothers.

He and Mary were wed on June 6, 1954. She was just 18. “Eddie,” as he was known to some, was 26 and in the service, stationed at Stewart Air Force Base in Newburgh, N.Y.

Guess who was from Newburgh? My aunt, born Mary Van Duser on August 16, 1935. When my uncle passed away in 2006, they had been married 52 years.

In one of our phone calls, Mary described herself as “just a baby” back then. “I didn’t know anything,” she said recalling her wedding.

They had five children: Patty, David, Kerry, Kim and Michael.

The oldest, Patty, died of breast cancer in 2001. Her second daughter, Kerry, passed suddenly of cancer in February. She was 62.

“Why is God taking my children?” Mary had wondered aloud.

I’d like to believe she’s with them again.

My Ohio cousins were among some of my closest friends growing up. The door to Aunt Mary and Uncle Adeeb’s home in North Canton was always open. At least from what I remember as a child.

Because my father worked a lot, our “family vacations” were long weekends to Canton or Pittsburgh, where relatives from both sides of the family lived. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins.

Familiar people, places and things. Lots of love and laughter. It was all I knew. My own family-friendly amusement park.

Mary was the last one of the old guard from my father’s side. She outlived them all.

As I’ve written before, even when you know it’s coming, death surprises. I am profoundly sad.

At our Monday visit, Mary’s three surviving children were there. They encouraged us to talk to their mother even though she was sedated and appeared to be asleep. It was something my sisters and I already knew from the hospice experience with our parents.

“She knows you’re here,” son David assured us. “Just hold her hand, and you’ll see.”

We did. He was right. We reminisced about good times together. She squeezed each of our hands more than once.

And then it was time to let go.

Rest in peace, Aunt Mary.

Retired print journalist and blogger.❤️🐾

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