Lora Ethylene Wilson died March 2, 2010 at 84 years of age leaving behind five children, six grandchildren, five great-grandchildren and numerous nieces, nephews and friends. Her body and spirit, until January 6th of this year, was more like that of a woman half her age. Throughout my life, she inspired and impressed me in many ways at many times.
My first memories of Aunt Ethylene go way back to my childhood. Growing up in Garden Grove, California, my favorite times were those when the aunts, uncles and cousins would come over to our house for holiday dinners and open houses. We had some of the most fun, witty and interesting aunts and uncles. Aunts Ethylene and Dolores were two of my faves. Both outspoken, boisterous, loud and unafraid to speak their minds, they would keep my siblings and I laughing for days after seeing them.
The first time I played Uno was sitting at our kitchen table with my older sisters, Mom, Dad, Uncles Dick and Earl and their respective wives, Dolores and Ethylene. I won, but I am pretty sure I was allowed to win. Even so, I was teased endlessly by everyone for having beginner's luck. I was teased a lot as a child, but I was also very loved and even coddled by my aunts and uncles. I was always so excited when they would come to visit.
Early on, we lost Uncle Dick, Uncle Earl and Aunt Dolores; but Aunt E lived through it all. She did more than live; she loved life and embraced each day. She loved her family, and she doted on me, even well into my adulthood. She enjoyed her home and her garden, and she was a consummate hostess, always ready to entertain.
When I became involved in theater, she was right there with Mom to support me at every show, always commenting that she "couldn't see anything better on Broadway." I knew full well that was not always true, but it thrilled me that she thought so highly of my work. Her voice always made me smile. She had this kind of gruff, but still feminine, voice with a hint of her Virginia heritage behind it. Her southern sensibilities were always there beneath the Southern California woman she had become.
At times over the last decade or so, I have thought about the day she would leave us. I never thought about it very long because it was too sad and too unimaginable that this amazing woman would ever not be here. But on January 6 of this year, she was involved in a fatal car accident. Her son, Barry, and his wife Barbara, were taking her back east to their home in Florida, after a wonderful Christmas she spent at her home in Orange County with her whole family. Something happened--none of us know what--and Barry lost control of the car. He was killed, as was their dog, and Barbara and Aunt E were left in crirical condition. Later, we found out that Aunt E had actually been found dead on the scene and was resuscitated.
The last two months have been an ordeal for her and for her family. She has gone from critical condition to recovery and back again more than once. This last time going back into CCU was it for her. She had taken all she could take.
Come to find out, Aunt E had stated in her will that she did not want to be resuscitated. No surprise really. She was one of the strongest women I have known and certainly never one to be weak or needing of assistance from others. Once when she was sick, her son told her she should lie down for a while, and she replied "I've been lying down all night. I can't lie down anymore."
One of my favorite memories of Aunt Ethylene was when she and my mom came to see a show of mine on a night that happened to be Gay and Lesbian Night at the theater. I swear, I didn't plan it. At one point while people were being seated, in full voice because that was the only voice Aunt E used, she said to my mother "Well, it must be husbands' night out. All the men have left their wives at home."
Her style was always direct and confident and smart. One time discussing death, she told my mom she wanted to be cremated. My mother staunchly opposes cremation and told her so to which she replied "Well, have you ever considered what happens to your body after it's buried?"
She always had a smart response because she was a smart lady.
Since January 1, we have had mostly warm sunny days and very little rain here in Portland. Ironic when you consider we moved up her to experience "weather", and, since we moved, So Cal has had more rain than we have. Anyway, in recent months I find myself asking Tommy "Did you see today?" with a wonder in my voice. This is a result of the beauty I have been noticing that I failed to notice in the past. I see the sun shining on the river and the flowers in bloom. I see the opportunity we have and the bounty with which we have been blessed since we moved. I see the gift of friendship in the people with whom I work. The traits and nuances of each cast member with whom I perform and each banker with whom I spend my days and the ways they color my life. And I feel very blessed and fortunate to have this love and laughter and energy around me. And I find myself saying this phrase "Did you see today? Wasn't it beautiful?" I find myself bragging to Tommy about how talented my fellow actors are, how nice my co-workers are, how rewarding my job is. And recently, I wondered where did this phrase come from?
Last night, my sister called to tell me of Aunt E's passing, and this morning I woke up with the realization that it came from her. She is the origin of that question. She saw every day. Her appreciation of the world and life and the beauty and fun it brings is what inspires that question.
My Aunt Ethylene was one of a kind. A few weeks ago, I sent her a card to tell her I loved her and couldn't wait for her to recover and come see Portland. After sending it, I beat myself up over suggesting such a ridiculous thing. She was struggling to live, and I was telling her to plan a trip. The impetus came from my optimism, or, rather, my hope that she would be well. In retrospect, it was ridiculous and inappropriate. But my request may not have been in vain. I think she may be visiting after all. I think she may be passing by for just a moment to make sure I saw today. I did, Aunt E, and I love you very much.
