Today my great aunt Fee-Fee died. It was quick, after a stroke she suffered last night. She was an amazingly generous woman. All my memories of her consist of her helping or loving people. She is a saint, Saint Fee-Fee.
It was in her car that I learned to drive.
She always brought me to get an ice cream or had popsicles at her house.
She never married and my first memories of Fee-Fee are of her taking care of her sister Emily.
She certainly loved her cocker spaniels.
I learned what it means to be spoiled from her.
She was always willing to talk football with my stepdad and was over for most Packer games, yelling like the best of them.
She let my mom, my brother, and I stay at her house for a few weeks on a couple occasions when things were not going so well with my stepdad.
She only ever rolled her eyes when I played with the loose skin under her chin, which I called her “Gobbledigook.”
I always was playing pranks on her. And she always called me a little shit after, MOSTLY with a grin on her face.
I was a little shit. Or a big shit, rather. But she was quick to forgive and not one to hold grudges. One time when we were in a Burger King drive-thru while she was ordering I turned off her car. Her hearing wasn’t so good so she didn’t notice. Once we got our food she pressed the gas to drive away and, nothing. She tried to restart the car. Nothing… but me trying not to bust out laughing. I put the car back in park so it would start and turned the key. “Eddie! You little shit.”
Another time Fee-Fee was taking me out to practice my driving when I sixteen. I was still a bit tense behind the wheel so I didn’t want to take my hand off to cover my mouth when I had to sneeze. So, unthinkingly I turned my head to the side and let out a sloppy, wet one right into Fee-Fee’s face which just happened to be looking directly at me. “Eddie! You little shit,” as she wiped off her glasses.
My friend Josh was over, we must have been around 17, and for some reason Fee-Fee was over at our house. In the old days, when the world used landlines you could call your own phone number, wait for a busy signal, and the phone would ring after you hung up. So, I had Josh sit in the den and keep an eye on the phone that was close to Fee-Fee while I called her with the cordless phone. I got our phone to ring and waited for Fee-Fee to pick up. When she answered I picked up and in a Gremlin voice said, “Hello, Fee-Fee,” back. Fee-Fee replied, “Oh, Hi, Patty,” thinking it was my aunt Patty, who smoked a lot but didn’t sound at all how I sounded. We continued in conversation for a few minutes, Josh dying from laughter and me trying to hold it together. I never told Fee-Fee it was me on the phone, but I know what she would have said if I did.
Later on sometime in my mid-twenties, I apologized to Fee-Fee for being such a pain in the ass. She said, “Oh, it’s alright. I still love you. You always were a little shit.” Ha!
Fee-Fee was another grandmother to me. My memory of her is one of a gentle, sturdy-built Bohemian woman who loved her family and whose life-joy was in the care she showed to others and who knew how to be silly. She had this way about her that just made you smile. I got a long letter from her during a hard time in my life and when I was done reading it I clapped with delight! I don’t remember any of the content, probably just a day-to-day-what’s-been-going-on type of letter, but I could hear her voice so clearly that it pulled me out of the murk I was in.
These last years she was under the grips of dementia. She wouldn’t remember our names, but she knew she loved us. In an hour we’d hear the same sentence 50 times. But her face would be a bright sun when we would visit her, as I’m sure it will be when we see her again.
Fee-Fee. You will live long in the memories of those who know and love you.
