Time passes.  Another year, another decade, another lifetime.  Another member of our greatest generation has marked her last day here and moved on.  Aunt Beryl is reunited with my Uncle Roy now.  He and others are rejoicing while we weep.

Beryl married into our family with the creativity and grace that would mark all her days from that point on.  I remember Mom telling me that she sewed the dresses of her bridesmaids, of whom Mom was one.  Each dress had rows of fabric-covered buttons up the back and on the sleeves, as well as scalloped necklines.  Her prowess as a seamstress served as inspiration for me years later, but when faced with covering buttons I found myself severely lacking.

Into this boisterous and larger than life family, Beryl entered beside her loving husband.  Roy was no wallflower either.  Beryl was always his biggest fan and admirer; she truly adored him and laughed at his antics.  She would smile, nod her head and quietly watch as he’d tell jokes, dance or just be silly, as he was wont to do.

She was the only woman in a household of males.  Gary and Michael, as well as Roy, kept her busy throughout their years at home.  She not only kept house, but she also kept up with them as they participated in ham radio events throughout the region and beyond.  Avid campers, they all enjoyed travelling to those events as well as family get togethers, always tenting it rather than graduating to campers like the rest of us.  And we all know how much work tent camping can be, especially for moms.

Ever present throughout all of this was Beryl’s smile.  There were rarely times she wasn’t wearing one.  Her positive, loving nature was evident, even when faced with life’s toughest moments.  When she greeted me and other nieces and nephews at the funeral home when Roy died, I remember her hugging me and saying, “We lost our Roy.”  It was sad, yet she had a way of acknowledging the rest of us when she had to be hurting the most.  That somehow made me feel better. Later that same day, when things went wrong at the cemetery, she wasn’t phased by the logistical problems but met them with serenity that could only be evidence of her strong faith.

Many of us will cherish the hand-made gifts from her that marked graduations, weddings and births. Whether they were crocheted handkerchiefs or bookmarks, quilled shadowboxes or even beautifully knit baby sweater sets, these gifts were presentations of love for all of us.  I managed to save the sweater set she gave me when my daughter was born—made from yarn she had rescued from a knotted pile in a bin at church that took her days to patiently untangle.  I am so happy that my granddaughter will now be able to wear it too, because it means that Beryl’s love lives on.

Not that it takes a material thing to remember our beloved aunt, who called us all “kiddoes.”  We will forever think of her fondly as the patience and positivity we all wish we possessed.  And while the rest of the world sees a tie-dyed shirt and thinks of rock bands, I’ll think of Beryl’s creative streak and just how well she fit into our colorful family.

Rest easy, Aunt Beryl.  And should Uncle Roy be telling his favorite Norwegian jokes in heaven, we all know you’ll be shaking your head and smiling, as always.