Ruthie

She has been gone for years
this woman of love
who was closer than a great-aunt
closer than an aunt
surrogate grandmother
more like a sister
often my best friend
always called Ruthie,
never Ruth

She was the sixth born
of nine children
a younger sister of my mother's mother

She watched her older sister marry and have children
and her younger sister marry and have children
and though she did at last find a husband, children were never given

She kept house for herself, her husband, her father and two bachelor brothers
and had more love to spare for nieces and nephews
as if they were her own

I never knew my grandmother, my mother lost her when I was only one
but there was Aunt Ruthie
lavishing more love on me (it seemed) than any of her other nieces
perhaps she saw a need, a hole that wanted filling
and she poured and poured and poured out love

As a teen, Aunt Ruthie was the one I could share my struggles with
things I was afraid to tell my mother
as a young woman I could call her anytime
regaling her with the ups and downs of romances
I was awakened in the night at the exact moment
she passed from life to death
although I didn't get the call informing me
until the next morning

There are moments still
when I think
"I have to call Ruthie"
to share some special tidbit in my day

and I wonder if she knows
her laugh lives on in me
and the twinkle that I caught
became a flickering fire
I hope it burns bright enough
for her to see.

late and scattered.. but here, written as part of a High Calling community project.  To read more voices click here