Mama's Sisters

Mama's Sisters Sandra Oney A half hour before the funeral began, I was summoned to a side room of the funeral home, separate from the mourner 's lounge and viewing room. All my aunts were there, and Kay was there. "Well, get in here and sit down. We don't have much time." "Irene, I will handle this," Aunt Helen said pointedly. "Remember she's still under my guidance." Aunt Helen then turned to me and daintily yet firmly placed her left hand on my right arm. "Dear, come in. We have something to share with you," she said in what I had come to know as her syrupy-sweet voice of insincerity. "As you know, Rae," she went on, "you are already legally out of our care now. But to keep everything fair in the family, your Uncle Warren and I will pay for the remainder of your college tuition and room and board through the summer. But since you don't live with any of us and won't be living with any of the family any longer, we decided to take this time to give you a few things from the family. Kay will be Berniece's stand-in." If any of them expected a response, they were disappointed. I was then led by Aunt Helen to a single chair facing the four sisters and Kay. As usual, the affair was engineered with a sense of combativeness. The chairs could have easily been placed in a circle, no beginning , no end of family devotion. I would have then been symbolically folded into their loving care. Of course, this was precisely the point. I, a love child, would never be fully admitted into the ranks of the family. As always I was reminded of my position. Even in the smallest matters, I was to recognize and remember my place. Aunt Helen was speaking. Now as eldest sister, it was her duty to conduct family meetings. She was more efficient than Aunt Berniece whose primary concern at family gatherings had been to keep Aunt Irene's tongue in check. "And to conclude, we have something for you. These gifts were decided upon solely by the sister. We did not communicate with each other. We do not know what each other's gifts are. We will present our gifts in the order you stayed with us. Irene will go first." I had no questions. It was easy to see Aunt Helen did not want questions. The organ music began, reminding all of us that Aunt Berniece's funeral would begin shortly. "These gifts were Berniece's idea," Aunt Irene began. "I was against it. This is an extravagance." "Irene," Aunt Helen interrupted, "let's get to matters at hand. We do not have time to digress. And we're not airing our differing opinions outside the bosom of the family. With that, Aunt Helen summarily excluded me from the family , something she had longed to do for years, it seemed. "All right. Here, Brat," Aunt Irene said in a tone of disgust and thrust an envelope at me. "Well, go ahead and open it." I did as I was told. I tore the envelope open and saw a small brown booklet. There was a small piece of folded paper stuck to the front ofit. I pulled it off and opened it. "This is only to be used for school—nothing else. Nothing is as important as your education. Aunt Irene." I opened the two-inch square brown savings book and leafed through several 52 of the pages before the entries stopped. I was struck dumb. There were three years of entries, one a month. Aunt Irene had saved all "my checks." She had spent her own money on me. I couldn't believe my eyes. Aunt Irene had sacrificed for me. I tried to think she did this without Aunt Berniece's prompting. I didn't hug Aunt Irene. She wouldn't have liked that. I muttered a thank you, but I was thinking of my days with Aunt Irene. I remembered the big, fluffy warm towels at bath time. I felt again the warmth of those precious moments...