Eleanor

Yesterday my Aunt Eleanor died, having never recovered from a fall 5 weeks ago. Having lost her kidney and spleen, and other complications arising from her fall, it all proved too much. At almost 85 years, she certainly had a full, rich life.
Below: a photo of my grandmother on the shore of Shadow Lake in Glover, holding Eleanor and my uncle Warren next to her. As someone on the edge of childbirth, I am moved by this photo of my grandmother as a young mother, and Eleanor, who was at great-grandmother two times over at her death yesterday, as just a young tot in her mom's lap; a whole life and decades of experiences to come unknown to her. Here she is just a girl by a lake, lovingly cradled.

My great-grandfather with Eleanor by his side, and that cherub-faced little boy hugging his knee would be my dad, my aunt Elaine the baby next to Warren.Warren and Eleanor, up to trouble.A long and lanky girl on a horse in a field in Glover, before the Depression robbed them of their farm and changed their lives forever.
The aspiring student - 8th grader and a spelling bee medal.
Here's my Dad rowing about Willoughby Lake with Ellie and my aunt Rebecca in between.
WWII brought an opportunity to serve and to be in the WAVES. Warren and Eleanor served, but my Dad and his flat feet (or was it a heart murmur) stayed behind.The war brought Ellie in contact with her husband of 60+ years, my uncle Jake. Starlets from the beginning. Look at the romance in this young Post-War couple:Ellie & Jake managed the Willoughvale Inn on Willoughby Lake for 9 summers. Here she is with the "Gap" behind.

How lucky her family was to get her out of the hospital for her last 4 days and nights, and to all be there with her. All my siblings in Vermont were able to see her one last time. The setting was all-too-familiar for them, so reminiscent of what we encountered 8 years ago right around now with my Dad.
I am grateful for pickles and egg-salad sandwiches she served me in late October for lunch with Thomas and Estelle and the lemonade we enjoyed on her back porch. I remember fondly the frankness of her demeanor, her ability to quote poetry after being an English teacher for 2 decades. I recall the sugar-crystal edible egg and chick decoration she sent to us one Easter in the early 1970's, which my mother packed away in a box in the freezer to keep it beautiful and took it out each year at the end of Lent. Wes and I enjoyed licking it when no one was looking "The Ellie Egg", we called it.
As a college student and adult I benefited from many a lunch out courtesy of her and Jake, at nice restaurants or Jake's country club. Many a cool folded bill was slipped into my hand at the end of these encounters - "just a little something from Uncle Jake and me". Her generousity towards our large family has existed for decades and came in many shapes and sizes.
In the 90's and after the Millenium she worked a lot in a church charity shop and we all have many many gifts and treasures that she procured for us there. There have no material value but now that she is gone I see them as a symbol of how she always tried to give.
On the eve of my own labor, I struggle with distance and the sense of being far from where I might want to have been, though of course I should be, and am, where I ought to be.
Ironically in my nesting phase yesterday I found recent letters from her to me here. It is nice to have, to not forget her voice.