Her name was Mary, and as a child of Russian-German parents, her pet name was Marushka, or so I'm guessing, Rooshki for short. And from the time I was small, she shared that pet name with me, calling me Rooshki too. It was one of the special things about our relationship -- I would pick up the phone and hear, "Hello, Rooshki? It's Auntie Rooshki." Usually for my birthday, or sometimes unexpectedly, just because she was thinking of me.
She was like that -- one of those people who was always thinking about others, doing kind things for them, sharing a joke or a smile or a song. She was a nurse by training, loved people, period, and was always interested in their stories. When she "retired" from work, she found a hundred other ways to give of herself, volunteering in many different capacities, singing for the "old people," taking communion to shut-ins, and bringing smiles wherever she went.
Auntie Rooshki told me that she thought of herself as my honourary godmother, though truth be told, it was her husband, Uncle Lefty (Edwin was his real name, though I was probably 15 before I figured that out), who was my godfather. But it was clearly Auntie Mary who bought Christmas gifts for all their godchildren. She put the 'auntie' in 'panties.' I remember little Christmas packages of white cotton underwear with pink, yellow or blue rose buds that came to me year after year. I'm sure Uncle Lefty didn't pick those out!
As a child, I was fortunate to spend some time with Auntie Mary's family, my double cousins, a few summer holidays in a row. They lived in the small Saskatchewan town where Auntie Mary was born, and where a lot of my mom's family still live. Those magical summers of childhood saw us spending our time walking to the lake just outside town, exploring the cemetery there, trying not to step on cacti as we cut across the golf course to get home, wandering the hospital grounds, playing scrub, baking cookies, singing to records while doing dishes. Auntie Mary was working at the hospital, but trusted her kids to keep themselves and me entertained. I loved hanging out with my cousins, singing, reading comic books late into the night (sometimes with flashlights under the blankets) and dancing to the music of the movie Grease.
As an adult, I realize now that I owe Auntie Mary a debt of gratitude because those summers were really important in cementing my relationships not only with her kids, but with many of my Saskatchewan cousins. Staying in town with her family, I was able to take little side trips to play with Auntie Helen's little ones and help her shell peas, swim with Auntie Gwen's family in their cool backyard pool until our fingers were prunes, play HALT! and try out Auntie Isabel's gang's quonset slide, butcher chickens and go fishing with Auntie Cathy's crew, build bale forts and milk cows with Auntie Barbara's clan, and go to morning mass with and pick raspberries for Grandma, that she later served with real cream. I had no idea then how lucky I was! But my friendships with those cousins remain, sometimes like we can just pick up where we left off the last time we saw each other.
But back to the lady of the day: one of the things I liked most about Auntie Rooshki was how she loved to laugh, often at her own expense. She was willing to be a little silly to win a smile, and her silliness was often contagious. At an Oktoberfest party one year, she somehow had a good-sized group of her relatives spreading out our paper napkins, twisting the corners until they resembled soup bowls, and wearing them on our heads. "Zeega Zagga, Zeega Zagga!," she would shout, and we'd all answer, "Hoi, Hoi, Hoi!" Exactly why, I'm not sure. I don't know a lot about my Russian-German background, but assumed that was part of its tradition, somehow. Auntie Rooshki could dance the Russian-German Polka that has an extra little hop. She tried to teach me that evening (and many times after) to no avail. The best I could do was "Hoi, Hoi, Hoi!" whenever she'd "Zeega Zagga!" Seems to me our group won a bottle of wine or a case of beer for being the life of the party that night, but it was mostly Auntie Mary's doing. My sisters tell me that she did the napkin-hat trick at my wedding, too, but somehow I missed that fun.
After the arrival of my first child, a little package from Auntie Mary arrived in the mail, labelled "For Christina." In it were two cassette tapes of nursery rhymes, songs, and Purple Puzzle Tree stories that she had dubbed. We played those tapes over and over during our travels as a family, and I suspect my kids can still remember some of the songs from the Agapeland records that Auntie Mary recorded for them when she worked at the Calgary Universal Church Supplies that she and Uncle Lefty owned for many years. I suspect Auntie Mary made cassette tapes for lots of friends and family. My parents have a box of Auntie Mary's tapes of Russian-German songs. There are probably some wonderful old treasures in there.
Auntie Mary lived for what seemed like a long time with leukemia, having her ups and downs health-wise, but was always cheerful whenever I saw her. Her biggest complaint seemed to be that the medication was wearing out her memory, though her family as a whole jokes a lot about not remembering things, my mom included. The last time we had a phone conversation, Auntie Rooshki called just to make sure she had remembered to return my call (she had).
Memory issues aside, she never failed to send me a Christmas card, often recycled from another year, a store-bought front image of the Holy Family glued onto a piece of paper that she filled with her lovely handwriting, asking about my kids, telling me about my cousins and their children. How I loved those "recycled" Christmas letters... and now they won't be coming any more. This is where I suppress a sob and the tears start flowing down my face as I realize how much I'm going to miss her. But she's going home in more ways than one. Her faith in God kept her going for a long time, through many challenges, and I have no doubt she's with God now.
Auntie Mary was the fourth child in our near- Guiness Book of Records family, and tomorrow we will lay her ashes to rest beside Uncle Lefty in the cemetery near her original small town home, not far from her parents and other family members buried there. It's hard to see her generation grow older and know that, inevitably, we will lose them all, but oh, what wonderful memories they leave in our hearts, and what faith they have offered to us.
There are many other wonderful Auntie Mary stories that the other 80+ nieces and nephews and I could tell, but the bottom line is that Auntie Mary was more than an Auntie. She was also an excellent friend, a funny, sweet, generous-with-her-time person to have in our corner.
Dear Auntie Rooshki, thank you for sharing your name and so many other things with me, especially your kids as we were growing up. I will miss you, but I have no doubt that your strong faith has taken you straight to The Place where you continue to pray for us until we can all dance that Polka together without any lessons!
Ich liebe dich.
