My aunt and my mom were best friends. I assume they still are best friends. Just best friends Somewhere Else. With those two it’s a real toss-up on where they could be. I think I probably was introduced to the concepts of “gossip” and “complaining” from them. This is not a criticism. This is a Fact. This is a Sister Thing. If you have a sister,  you know. And if you are saying to yourself right now “My sister and I don’t gossip or complain at all” then you are either lying or adopted. And you are missing out.  Because this is what sisters are for.

My Aunt Mary lived two hours away in the great city of Toledo.  We called her Thea Mimi because Thea is “Aunt” in Greek and “Mimi” was what my uncle called her when he was little, and I guess it just stuck.  When she came to visit for the day it was a real treat.  I remember being so excited to see her car in the driveway.  She was the Cool Aunt. She would never show up empty-handed.  She started me and my sisters each on a collection of miniature ceramic animals.  I still cherish mine.   My mom, on the other hand, did not do Fun-Gifts-for-No-Reason.  When we would visit Thea Mimi for a couple of days she would take us for ice cream at Zipz, a place shaped like an igloo where you could make your own sundae.  My mom bought vanilla no- brand ice cream from Kroger.  Thea Mimi fed so many wildlife creatures they were comfortable coming up to her back-patio door asking for food.  It was like something out of a Disney movie over there. The closest we got to wildlife coming up to our door was one summer when a raccoon was stuck between our trash compactor and kitchen cabinet.  She belonged to The Toledo Club and was on the board of the Toledo Art Museum. My mom played a monthly pinochle game with the neighborhood ladies.

Side Note:

Before one of my relatives comments that my mom was great and awesome and all the things I already know but am ignoring and not writing about in this blog in the name of HUMOR, I will say that my aunt had only had one child, my cousin Cate, who was older than us and already away at college by the time I was 6, so she had time to spoil us. My mom had three daughters plus one First-Male-Grandchild-of-a-Greek-Family-Named-After-the-Grandfather-so-let’s-have-a-200-person-Christening-for-him-at-a-Banquet-Hall-with-a-Band, so she had her hands full.  (No, I’m not bitter. And yes, that’s for another blog entry someday.) So, she was busy and overwhelmed and didn’t have time for ceramic animals, woodland creatures, or ice cream trips.  I do remember us eating at Kmart’s diner often, though.

But even at that age, it wasn’t the presents that I looked forward to the most. It was just her being there. Everything was more fun with her around.  I couldn’t even tell you why.   Or maybe I could.  She had funny stories.  She included us kids in the conversation.  She always carried around a tiny golden box filled with her teeny tiny saccharin tablets.  She had small delicate hands.  She laughed a lot.  And as I’m writing this I am realizing she was much more affectionate than my mom was. My mom was not much of a hugger, but my aunt would envelope you into her arms and you felt really loved.

WARNING: HERE IS WHERE MY STORY STOPS BEING FUNNY SO STOP READING IF YOU AREN’T IN THE MOOD FOR SERIOUS TALK.

She and my mom died one month apart.  If the internet was around then I’m sure their story would go viral as it was a strange series of events that seemed more divine than coincidental.  Neither one of them knew that the other died.  That is a story in and of itself, but for another time.  My faith and my strong belief in sisterhood tell me it would have been hard for either one of them to survive without the other.

What happens when your mom dies a month before your treasured aunt, is that you don’t really get to grieve that second important person.  The first grief is so overwhelming that you just bury the second one along with it.  Then one day you start writing a blog entry about Mother’s Day and your own mother and then her sister and then sisters and death and everything in between and you realize what started out as one thing has ended up being something very different. I am starting to learn that this is what happens when you begin to write.  I did not intend to write about Thea Mimi.  But now I realize that this turned into a way for me to finally grieve for her after so many years.

Mother’s Day came and went yesterday.  Tomorrow is Thea Mimi’s birthday.  Friday is my mom’s. Every year this week creeps up on me.  This has been a hard last few days.  I don’t know when I will fully embrace this day as my own and not think about what I have lost as a daughter and sister rather than what I have gained as a mother.  I grieve for my mom.  I grieve for my aunt. I grieve for my sister.

***I realized while searching that there aren’t enough pictures of my Thea Mimi.  Probably because she was the family photographer. She was an amateur, but she was good at it. I love that she is holding her camera here, as if someone caught her out from behind the lens, smiling her ever-present smile.***   

Sisters