Wednesday, September 2, 2020
I recently posted this to Facebook. I felt it important to post it again.
I recently learned that Aunt Bud, as we often referred to her, passed away. She was the wife of Clifton Hiltz, my uncle. Aunt Bud was a tough lady to be sure. Yet I remember her knitting, gathering eggs, washing dishes, canning and so much more. You see for a little while I cared for uncle Cliff after he had a stroke. That seems like a life time ago.
I don’t think Bud always had it easy with Cliff being his primary care giver. My time spent with them was not the easiest of my life. I suppose one of the hardest things you can do for another is care for them when they need it the most. Cliff and Bud were so independent, but bud was not always the easiest person to work with.
Please don’t get me wrong. Bud had heart. I could see the pain in her eyes the days I spent in their home. I sensed it. It is a gift or a curse. I can sense the pain of others. I absorb it like a sponge. But I also sensed some happiness and joy.
I wish had more of her spine, her backbone, her sheer will to keep moving or plough through tough times.
I still see Cliff waiting for me to arrive in the morning all smiles. Bud sometimes venturing out where Cliff was waiting to tell me something. Things I forget now, but not her. Not Bud. She will keep knitting if only in my dreams.
