Kris Rust (My Aunt)
Mickey was a devoted sister to my dad. They played together and sang together growing up. Mickey and Bill even took dad in for a couple years when he was in college at OBU and could not afford a place of his own. When dad married mom, Mick and Bill accepted her into their hearts, and the four have remained fast friends through the years. I remember our families? visits together in Oklahoma and North Carolina as joyous ? full of love, laughter and song. And Aunt Mickey, with her vivacious spirit and beautiful smile, was at the center of it all. Unfortunately, growing up in the Carolinas and now living in Pennsylvania, I didn?t get to see her often, especially in recent years.
My last visit was this past summer. Instead of the vivacious woman I had known as my Aunt, she was mostly immobile, and her gaze would frequently lapse into a blank stare. She could not speak except for sometimes one or two words. Still, we caught glimpses of the Mickey we knew: as she listened to my dad recount stories of their childhood and young adult life, her gaze would focus on him and you could tell she was listening intently. She would break into deep belly laughs and smile at the funny memories. She would even interject the name of someone that my dad could not remember.
The most amazing part was at the end of our visit. We went to the chapel and found a piano and a hymnal. Dad pointed me to one of her favorite hymns, and I began to play. We all sang, including Aunt Mickey: Complete sentences, verses ? from memory! And on-key! The palsy had wiped out her ability to speak, but not her musical ability.
I believe that there are many ways people live on after death. I know that Mickey lives on in the hearts and minds of her family, friends, students, co-workers and everyone who knew her and was touched by her warmth, her smile, her music. Thank you Aunt Mickey for the gift of yourself!
To my family in Oklahoma and Texas: I am sorry that I couldn?t be with you at the funeral. I love you very much.