| Aunt Freda's Advice |
In 1951 I was nine years old when my grandmother died, suddenly, one night, in her sleep, from a blood
clot that doctors speculated was the result of a car accident she had been in a few months before - where
there had been some minor injuries and bruising (I can't recall the details) but it was speculated a clot must
have formed inside somewhere while healing, which eventually broke free to end up where it did (wherever
that was) to end her life. She was otherwise healthy and looking forward to leaving the next morning
(literally, the next morning) on a long vacation trip with "Gramps," which they had been planning together
for years as the "trip of their lifetime" (which has made me adverse to planning things like that ever since) -
plus it was her birthday, Sunday, February 25th, 1951, the day she died. She was 58 years old.
Grandma's death was so sudden and unexpected it shook up everyone, even strangers. One minute she
was there, the next minute she was gone, in her sleep. No clue that anything was wrong. (Which I've
lived long enough now to suppose that might be a blessing in a way, to die that way in your sleep, but not
to my mother at the time...she went into shock!) No one took Grandma's death harder than my mother.
As the youngest of grandma's four children, and probably the closest to from all accounts, my mother's
grief became almost more then anyone could bear.
Enter my Aunt Freda at the funeral, who took it upon herself to join me in front of grandma's casket as I
stood there, alone (just hanging around I think wondering what was going to happen next) wondering what
I might say or do next, what had happened to grandma, why my mother was carrying on so... (In 1951,
young men were expected to keep a "stiff upper lip" during times of adversity, and I think I might have
been doing alright, at least to some extent fooling everyone except my Aunt Freda perhaps, who sized up
the situation and decided to have a talk with me.) I believe she thought it might be time for me to
understand a few things about the "facts of life" and death as she understood them - and I got it all in one
short session:
And so I like to think, from that point on, I stopped fretting so much about life and death and lived the
best life I could for me, mom, Aunt Freda, Gramps, Grandma - and everyone! It worked like magic!
Every time the subject came up (in Vietnam, before Vietnam, after Vietnam - one marriage, two children,
one divorce - a life-saving operation and a dozen close calls before and after) I remembered Aunt Freda's
Advice: Grandma may have gone to a better place, indeed, and so may we all someday - but life is for the
living now and doing the best you can (without excuses).
She had some other things to say that day also (if I remember them correctly):
As I get older I've come to realize that only the Greek philosopher Socrates could rival my Aunt Freda:
Nor does it get any easier as we get older...
Thank you Aunt Freda for being there,
for talking to me at grandma's funeral,
for helping me to "grow up"
at the ripe old age of nine
and for everything!
Love, Ken
clot that doctors speculated was the result of a car accident she had been in a few months before - where
there had been some minor injuries and bruising (I can't recall the details) but it was speculated a clot must
have formed inside somewhere while healing, which eventually broke free to end up where it did (wherever
that was) to end her life. She was otherwise healthy and looking forward to leaving the next morning
(literally, the next morning) on a long vacation trip with "Gramps," which they had been planning together
for years as the "trip of their lifetime" (which has made me adverse to planning things like that ever since) -
plus it was her birthday, Sunday, February 25th, 1951, the day she died. She was 58 years old.
Grandma's death was so sudden and unexpected it shook up everyone, even strangers. One minute she
was there, the next minute she was gone, in her sleep. No clue that anything was wrong. (Which I've
lived long enough now to suppose that might be a blessing in a way, to die that way in your sleep, but not
to my mother at the time...she went into shock!) No one took Grandma's death harder than my mother.
As the youngest of grandma's four children, and probably the closest to from all accounts, my mother's
grief became almost more then anyone could bear.
Enter my Aunt Freda at the funeral, who took it upon herself to join me in front of grandma's casket as I
stood there, alone (just hanging around I think wondering what was going to happen next) wondering what
I might say or do next, what had happened to grandma, why my mother was carrying on so... (In 1951,
young men were expected to keep a "stiff upper lip" during times of adversity, and I think I might have
been doing alright, at least to some extent fooling everyone except my Aunt Freda perhaps, who sized up
the situation and decided to have a talk with me.) I believe she thought it might be time for me to
understand a few things about the "facts of life" and death as she understood them - and I got it all in one
short session:
- She leaned over to me and whispered, "No one knows what happens to us when we die. Do you
know anyone who's died who's come back to talk about it?"
It impressed me that she asked me that, as if I might know... Then she went on, "Since no one
knows, and no one we know has come back to tell us one way or another - why fear it? Why
assume anything bad happens when we die? Why cry about it? When we cry, are we crying for
the dead who we don't know for sure what's happened to them, or are we crying for ourself and
that we are now on our own to get along without them?"
- "Maybe death is a good thing?" She reasoned. "Not to rush it, of course, because it will happen
soon enough to all of us one day... But maybe we do go someplace better when we die, depending
on how well we lived while we were here or how young we were when we died? Maybe there is a
heaven and a hell, it's just that we don't know for sure... Maybe we even get a second chance if we
die especially young? (Like I hope one of Aunt Freda's four children did.) Why not believe that: A
big reward for a good life, terrible damnation for a bad one, and all we can do is hope (that it turns
out that way)! But, since we don't know for sure why fret about it? Why not live a good life just in
case, knowing we'll find out soon enough, when the time comes, what the facts are."
And so I like to think, from that point on, I stopped fretting so much about life and death and lived the
best life I could for me, mom, Aunt Freda, Gramps, Grandma - and everyone! It worked like magic!
Every time the subject came up (in Vietnam, before Vietnam, after Vietnam - one marriage, two children,
one divorce - a life-saving operation and a dozen close calls before and after) I remembered Aunt Freda's
Advice: Grandma may have gone to a better place, indeed, and so may we all someday - but life is for the
living now and doing the best you can (without excuses).
She had some other things to say that day also (if I remember them correctly):
- "Not everyone has such a good and easy life, you know," she said. "Not all of the time."
"Not everyone's life is a bed of roses with a full stomach all the time and no worries (like my
stomach and my situation I think she was implying - and my mother's)... Some people have a hard
life and yearn for a better one (like her life perhaps and how she was feeling at the time)?"
"So, until someone we know comes back to tell us different, why not do the best we can, live each
day as if it might be our last, and try to remember that life is for the living... And don't cry about it!"
As I get older I've come to realize that only the Greek philosopher Socrates could rival my Aunt Freda:
- "Be of good hope in the face of death, of this one truth you can be certain - that no evil shall befall a
good person in life or in death and that our fate is not a matter of indifference to the gods."
Nor does it get any easier as we get older...
Thank you Aunt Freda for being there,
for talking to me at grandma's funeral,
for helping me to "grow up"
at the ripe old age of nine
and for everything!
Love, Ken
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