My great aunt Jarie was the 12th of 13 kids borne by my great grandparents. My maternal grandfather was the 13th. And over her 88 years she knew great love, and mourning, as she buried her parents, and her siblings one by one.

But, her love never wavered. Through out the years, she and her husband, my uncle Ed, had two children...and they took in many foster children, and treated each of them as if they were their own. In fact, the ones still left still think of her as "mom", and still hold her in their hearts. It wasn't just their own foster children they loved as their own, but even their charges' siblings, the ones too old to be in the system. They became parents by bonds stronger than that of blood, by those of the spirit and the heart.

Yet, the losses were still there. In 1991 she lost her natural son to AIDS, and her husband to diabetes a few years later. Also, some of her charges fell away to various ailments, those of the mind, spirit, and body. Then a couple of years ago, she lost her other natural child to cancer. Yet she still found joy....she found joy in the love of family, and her grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, those of blood and those of spirit.

Almost two months ago, she went into the hospital with pneumonia, and wasn't expected to make it, and so they let her go home under hospice care. I saw her a short while later, fading in and out of coherency, calling out to ghosts, the spectres of loved ones long gone, and believed I would get the phone call that very night, but i was surprised.

Two days later, she was up and about, the dementia of her illness gone as if it had never been. Unfortunately, she was still sick. She was diagnosed with stage four renal failure...and stubborn as that woman was, she realised she was going to die, but she wanted to go out on her own terms, so no dialysis. She still ate the same things she always did, although in smaller and smaller portions, she would still go outside and smoke. She would happily see and converse with the many relatives and friends, who streamed in and out to see her. She would do the things she enjoyed doing, within her limitations.

Then, she had her 88th birthday. it was such a great day for her, people walking in and out, wishing her happy birthday, giving her cards, presents, hugs, and kisses. Two of her former foster kids, made her a wonderful seafood birthday feast of oysters, shrimp, and crabs, along with the cake and pie. She was laughing, joking, and telling stories of her youth, and best of all sharing the love we had for her, and that she had for us, making us each feel, in that special way she had, the most important people in her life. A couple of days later, my grandparents drove home to North Idaho, knowing the failure could last anywhere from days to weeks to months.

A couple of weeks ago, my grandparents got the call to come back. The next day they drove back down to Portland. Aunt jarie was still with us, still doing things on her own terms, but the cracks were showing, the end was approaching. me and my mother would drive up there often, to be with her, to assist in anyway we could, and to provide support, and then last Saturday, the hospice nurse said it could be anytime within the next couple of weeks. Monday she revised her opinion and said within the next week.

This last Tuesday night, apparently she was being stubborn, and refusing to go to bed, even though she was falling asleep in her wheelchair, and then finally she went in, and immediately went to sleep. So my mother drove over there to let everyone else rest, and stayed up with her all that night.

I went up Wednesday morning, and went off with my grandfather to get him out of the house (gramma's orders)...so we spent the day in Portland doing guy things. We were on our way back to my aunt's when the call came in. Her breathing pattern apparently changed and very quickly her breaths grew farther and farther apart, until they stopped altogether, and she died at 1420 that afternoon. We missed her departure by 20 minutes.

We drove back, shared tears and hugs...and said goodbye to her body. Well, I did...my grandfather being of that generation where men don't openly weep, but their eyes get red. i stayed up there for a few hours, but my mother was fading fast, as she had not slept in 36 hours or so. As i was leaving i looked at the corpse of what was once my dear aunt Jarie, knelt over her and kissed the cold pale foreheard, and lightly brushed her hair back with my hand...and wished her a safe journey home. Then I left, driving mom home.

Tomorrow is her wake, reserved for family and close friends. There will be many people there weeping and loving, celebrating this amazing woman, and mourning her death.

Farewell, Aunt Jarie.

nt