La Giaconda

That's what my grandmother used to call her third daughter--- La Giaconda.... but over the years, my generation of cousins all called her Jaye.

Aunt Jaye was the glamorous one in the family. Not that my dad's other sisters weren't pretty as well, but Giaconda had an old-Hollywood style that no one else in the family could duplicate. In my aunt's younger years, she looked like Elizabeth Taylor and Ava Gardner all rolled up into one Italian NYC-girl.  Jaye's sense of style was a bit over-the-top for the Borough of Queens, but she would have fit right in on any 'red carpet' in Hollywood.

One of Aunt Jaye's favorite things to do with all the kids back in the 1950s and 1960s was to pinch our cheeks whenever she saw us. Those manicured nails would come reaching out for the right or left side of our faces and only the very brave would move away before she could latch onto our faces and say "Bella, bella.... you look like your father!"  And then would come the kiss... with Aunt Jaye's signature magenta-colored lipstick, which she wore for decades and decades.  After she kissed our cheek, we'd have her lips imprinted on our faces till my grandmother washed it off for us.  Aunt Jaye would tell us not to wash the lipstick off--- "It's good luck!" she would say.

My dad called Aunt Jaye's house "The Crystal Palace" because no matter where you looked, you would see your reflection in either the mirrors hanging on the walls or in the prisms hanging from lamps and chandeliers.  And no one, absolutely no one, was allowed to walk past Jaye's kitchen without first taking off their shoes.  Come to think of it, I don't even remember anyone using the front door of Aunt Jaye's house, which opened up into the carpeted living room. If you wanted to go into Jaye's house, then it was through the back door. No exceptions.

For the past two years, Aunt Jaye had been hospitalized, then signed into a nursing facility when the hospital could do nothing more for her. A sudden stroke had destroyed some of her memory and mostly all of her joy for life. There were days when she would recognize family members who came to visit, and days when she needed to be told who was standing in front of her. For someone who loved, loved, loved her family, it was a bittersweet reminder of the fragility of the human mind.

Aunt Jaye's daughter is my cousin R, born four months after me in 1952.  We grew up as sisters, and were as close as sisters for decades, then were separated for a while by life's changing tides, then reunited by still other changes, and we've been close-close ever since. That's the beauty of family... even when you go your separate ways for a time, there's always forgiveness and acceptance waiting at the end of the tunnel.

Late last  night, my phone rang and I could see by the 'caller ID' that it was my cousin R.  I knew the phone call wouldn't be a "Hi! It's me!" sort of conversation.

R was calling to tell me that her mother had just then passed away, quietly in her sleep. She was getting ready to go to the nursing home to sign papers and collect her mother's belongings. I told her I would get in touch with the rest of the family to let them know what happened.  And I did just that, sending out eMails to all the cousins.... apologizing for the impersonal electronic notes, but I didn't want to be calling their homes after midnight.  This morning, I called our cousins, telling them of the gentle way our 93-yr-old Aunt Jaye left this world.  We all agreed that our aunt was now with our grandparents and parents.... having a great big Italian dinner. "There must be a big Italian kitchen somewhere up there," said one of my cousins. Indeed.

I wore a strand of pearls today, for my Aunt Jaye. Her love of jewelry is legendary in our family, and she was always happy when one of her nieces followed in her bejeweled footsteps. Aunt Jaye loved all sorts of jewelry, but she truly treasured her pearls. So I wore my best pearls today, with a simple black top and my good jeans. Aunt Jaye wouldn't have approved of the casualness of my outfit, but she would have truly appreciated my choice of pearls.

There is just one of my grandmother's children left now... 102-yr-old Aunt Dolly, who lives in Florida with her nephew, my cousin S.  This morning, I asked the family not to call S's house until he had a chance to quietly tell Aunt Dolly about Jaye's passing. After much thought, however, S decided not to say anything about Jaye to Aunt Dolly just now.  Two of Aunt Dolly's other nieces will be going to Florida the week after Thanksgiving.... and that's when they will all tell Dolly what happened with Jaye.  Because of the winter weather in the northeast, and Aunt Dolly's age, there is no way that she could travel up to NY for a funeral this week.

My dad's parents had 12 children, three of whom died as infants, and nine living to adulthood. Before my grandmother died (a year after my grandfather passed away) Grandma's last words to Aunt Dolly were "Take care of your brothers and sisters after I go to Papa."

For all of her life, Aunt Dolly has taken care not only of her brothers and sisters, but all of her nieces and nephews as well. At 102 years old, we have all kept her very busy. And she has loved us all very much, without reserve, without judgment, without exception.

The family is hoping that with the passing of La Giaconda, Aunt Dolly won't start to believe that her work here is all done now.

As for my Aunt Jaye.... she was unique, she was brilliantly beautiful, and thoughtfully, respectfully generous. In the necklace of this family, she was indeed the most lustrous pearl on the strand, and I'm so grateful that she had a peacefully quiet ending to her glamorous life.