The most important women in my life were my Aunties

I was born into a covey of great-aunties. My great-grandmas came from large families. Grandma Belle had three sisters and Grandma May had four when I came along. Grandma Clare had two sisters.

It didn't matter which side of the family was getting together there were Great-aunties everywhere and I loved it.  My cousins are all either four or five years older than me, or six years younger. Rather than try to keep up or put up with them, I'd settle in with my aunties.

They adored me. In their eyes I was perfect. My mother often complained that I should behave as well for her as I did for them. It was easy to behave when so little was expected. I just had to sit there, listen and eat cookies. How hard is that? Especially when I got to hear wonderful stories.

My parents would have rather I'd not heard about the time Dad turned off the natural gas in my Mom's house, only to turn it on as Grandma was trying to figure out why the oven wasn't working. Lore has it she chased him down the street with a hammer.

Or how Grandpa disliked my Dad so, Grandma didn't tell him Mom was on a bus to meet and marry Dad until it was too late to stop her.  It seems my proper mother had a wild side too.

The aunts complained about my uncles, living and deceased. Who knew men could be so wonderfully difficult?  Their eyes sparkled with mischief and they'd lower their voices for the most wicked parts so the uncles wouldn't hear them. At this point they'd swear me to secrecy and give me a wink.

They swapped ideas on how to impede the growth of bunions and how best to deal with corns. Old women can be gross.  I liked being with them because they doted on me.  I'd snuggle down in a corner and enjoy just being with them.  The room always smelled of old perfume, cold cream and Listerine all mixed together. Odd yet comforting.

The aunties let me put as much cream in my coffee as I liked, and never glared at me for eating more than two cookies. Often when the plate was empty one of them would exclaim that I needed more. How could a six year old argue with that?

I learned so much from these ladies. They taught me to stand up for myself and to be a strong woman. Their example allowed me the courage to learn how to fix pipes, plant a garden and how to make love last.  I am who I am today because of them and I miss each of them very much.

When I lost the first, Aunt Edna, I was sad. I knew death was part of life and moved on, just like she taught me when her husband, Uncle John, passed.

A couple of years ago my last Great Auntie left this world. I found myself crushed. For the first time in my life there were no more Great Aunts. I was on my own and felt exposed and alone.

I guess I never realized until that moment how protected and loved those women made me feel.  The older I get the more I understand how truly blessed I was to have them in my life. Squabbles, drama and everything else that went along with them added texture, strength and depth to my life.

We should all be so lucky.