Losing Aunt Neal

Maybe you haven't heard me talk about her much, but the more I trace my steps; the more I find Aunt Neal.

I can see her penmanship in my mind anytime I write a note. Her "back porch fruit salad" is a work of genius. The finesse with which she serves Thanksgiving Dinner inspires me. Her poise was a force to be reckoned with.

There wasn't time to indulge the sadness I felt when I got the call. Someone's wedding was at stake; I will feel this later.

Heading home from work; I allowed myself to absorb the news Dad offered me of his sister's passing. Stacks of dirty dishes and left-over wedding cake rattled while I wept over her loss. So much of what I do for a living is based on something I saw her do.

Her husband and family have lost the gift of her daily presence. Her grandchildren will have only photos to illustrate the great stories they are told. My Dad doesn't have a big sister to fill in the blanks of his childhood memories. Her community will feel the void of her constant service immediately. There will be Tarheel fans that think the games feel different now.

Her life was our gain.