K.

Today is my aunt Gwen's birthday. Gwendolyn K. Bennett is the baby of her siblings - the babiest baby sister to my mom (the oldest). She was born late enough in the game that she was only a few years older than my older brother.

They grew up like brother and sister.

Since she was still young when her siblings started having children, she was the default babysitter. I never remember a time when she resented that.

(Not that we never got on her nerves, or that she never "chastised" us).

Growing up, she was the favorite aunt. Mostly because she let us get away with the most stuff and had the most patience for our shenanigans...

Actually, she played a large part in much of said shenanigans - I don't see how there's anybody in my generation of my mother's side who's sense of humor was not greatly influenced by her.

One morning during the second semester of my first year of college, I was awakened by a call from my mother saying that Gwen had died.

Two weeks after her death, my grandmother - a woman who'd made a career of caring for the infirm - had a stroke, became an invalid, and passed away two weeks shy of a year of the anniversary of her youngest child's death.

The death of my aunt Gwen led to a painful, painful time in my family.

My mother's family, which to me was the epitome of togetherness, for whom "too much fun" was an impossibility -

(ask us about Bennettball, and writhe in your jealousy)

- fell apart; fractured by blame, guilt, pride....(sigh)

toppled by the departure of its bookends.

I came to the following conclusion sometime within the past year, I think, but I wanted to wait until this day to declare it in/to the universe:

I love my Aunt Gwen. I miss my K. I laid my head and cried in my sister's lap for the first time since I was a small, small child at her funeral. I cried again days later with guilt over not having had more to say to her the last time we spoke. Perhaps if I'd said something cheerful, encouraging to her, she would have seen fit to stay with us.

In the past this day has reminded some people I love of what they lost.

From now on, I plan to use this day to celebrate what we had, have or may....WILL have. I will invoke it as a means of healing in my family. And I promise the tears I cry as I write this sentence will be last I'll shed in connection with pain from her loss.

And this is not to say that she was or is any more special that anyone in my family or that my family has lost....

Just that I will use her name on this day as a symbol of happiness. Of joy. 'Cuz that's the way I remember her.

And when I invoke this day, I'm invoking the spirits of both of my Grandmother Annies, Bobby, Marie, Garrett, Garrett Jr., Punkin, Angelique....

And I encourage everyone in my family to invoke the names of someone or one's as a symbol for themselves...

And I'm going to spend the day sayin' "happy birthday" to her.

And, after that, I'm going to holler it everytime something exceptionally good happens...for the times since she's been gone and I wanted to share a moment with her.

And I give exactly three quarters of a hot damn about what anybody in earshot thinks of it.


So,


Happy Birthday, Gwen.


I miss your nose, too. I wanna play with my mole.