My Aunt Bett, who lives on Orcas Island in Washington State, has fallen and broken her hip, and probably will not be able to go home again. Ninety-three years old, still spunky and bright, still living in her house (with much help from her gentle and patient son and daughter-in-law), surrounded by beloved books and photographs, accustomed to feeding the songbirds and the stray cats that come to her door, she is taken aback by transplantation.
Formerly fiercely sociable and independent, she has found it very hard to grow old, to lose family and friends, to give up her dog, her car, and now her nest. We call, we send our loving thoughts, we hope it makes a dent in the sorrow.
Here is a sketch of Aunt Bett I made on our last visit. I post with it a poem she shared with me that I love. Thanks to Jason for finding its author for me.
With Caleb Age Two on the Porch
My weatherglass does not lie; This hope-colored sky Will again be gray with rain, But while the sunlight flows Honey-warm and honey-slow It is enough and more To simply sit and rock With this small and sleeping Grandson in my arms.—Ken Wood
Doug & Krissy
Rob
Anne’s Aunt KT