From Her Back Porch

Sadly, one of my favorite people in the world passed away on Wednesday night, October 20th, 2016.  I got the teary phone call from mom letting me know that Aunt Linda had suffered a heart attack and unfortunately didn’t make it through.  Mom knew to call me with the news right away as I had spent just about as much time at Aunt Linda’s supper table as I did at my own when I was a kid.  In fact,I was as familiar with her do’s and don’ts as I was my own mothers.  Furthermore, I knew if I said something inappropriate Aunt Linda had full permission from my mother to spank my butt…and she did a couple of times.

 

During my childhood summers Jake, Paul, Neil, Chris, and I hiked every nook and cranny of Mill Creek and Sheafman Canyons and those adventures nearly always started from Aunt Linda’s back porch.  We had to finish chores of course and often times by the time we made our way to Jake and Paul’s place we had to help them finish up their chores before we took off for the hills.  As a kid I did hard labor, wasting valuable hiking time, nearly every summer in Aunt Linda’s infamous raspberry patch and I used to think she planted that raspberry patch just to keep us from stealing Jake and Paul.

Dinner time was our curfew and no matter where we were on the mountain or in Pinesdale it seemed like we could hear the unmistakable call from Aunt Linda… “JAAAAACOB, PAAAAAUL, LYYYYYMAN!”  She could holler louder than anybody I ever knew and the echo of her distinct yell meant it was time to hustle home immediately.  Despite her ability to holler her kid’s home, Aunt Linda was actually very quiet yet also fun loving.  I loved to see her laugh and she laughed easily at the antics of an over expressive kid like myself.  

Later, when I would come back from college I almost always found time to make it over to Aunt Linda’s for a quick hug and hello.  Aunt Linda’s home was safe for me because of her steady and consistent nature.  I knew that her every day consisted of hard work around the home and yard followed by an evening sitting in her white plastic chair on the back porch making sure the sun did it’s nightly chore as well.  As I grew up I came to know that Aunt Linda’s presence on her back porch was as dependable as the falling leaves in October.  In fact, she became such an unfailing figure on her back porch that her boys had to eventually build a cover to shelter her from the elements because she was going to be there rain or shine.    Seeing Aunt Linda on her back porch became such a normal fixture in my life that I knew no matter where life took me that on my return as I rounded the corner headed to mom’s place, Aunt Linda would be there.  A friendly wave from her and I knew I was home. 

Unfortunately, my kids never got to know Aunt Linda very well because life has a funny habit of separating us from our childhood routines.  As my back seat filled up with my own kids and on my return trips I would still wave at Aunt Linda and they would ask, “Who is that lady on the porch?”  “That’s my Aunt Linda” I would respond and my simple response would inevitably trigger a childhood memory which still held me captive about growing up in Pinesdale and hiking through the canyons, skinny dipping in the ponds, or sledding down the hills. Aunt Linda’s back porch gave her a view of everything important to her.  She could see her raspberry patch, garden, turkeys, and more importantly her kids and their friends working and playing.  From her porch she was able to watch the setting sun dip behind her Montana Mountains as well as watch the small community she loved move around her.

 

I was always welcome at Aunt Linda’s and I never had to knock on the door.  When Chris and I walked into her home as kids it was like walking into our own homes.  We nearly always found her family sitting around the kitchen or living room laughing, joking, and making fun of each other.  There was always laughter and that’s the way Aunt Linda liked it.  Because of those childhood memories flooding through my mind I had some trepidation as Chris and I entered the hospital where her family had gathered to mourn the passing of their mom and grandma on Wednesday night.  We weren’t sure we were supposed to be there but also wanted to show our love and support for our childhood best friend in a tough life moment as well as pay respect to a woman who was a prominent figure in our lives.   Our trepidation and hesitancy was immediately swept away as Kelly gave us a hug and ushered us back to the hospital bed where Aunt Linda’s lifeless body still lay.   To my surprise I found a family full of smiles and laughter just like we had always found as kids when we entered Aunt Linda’s home.  There were hugs, laughter, jokes, tears, and lots of thank yous that Chris and I had showed up.  As I watched her sons and our childhood best friends laugh and joke in such a tender moment I realized that even though her body was now lifeless, she was and is still very much alive in her children.  She would have hated it if everyone was crying and somber.  She would have been the first one to say I hope there is laughter when my time has come and her children granted her her wish.  Their ability to handle life’s toughest moments in a “matter of fact that’s just the way it is so don’t cry about it” way is a tribute to the mother she was.

This afternoon I found myself struggling to deal with her passing so I drove to Pinesdale and down her driveway to see her vacant porch.  It was my way of waving a final goodbye to a wonderfully quiet, fun loving, and consistent figure in my life.  I was comforted to realize she will now sit on a new back porch with an absolutely grand and spectacular view quietly looking down on everything that is important to her.  I pray I will see her again and just maybe, if I’m lucky, she will wave and I'll know I am home.

Joe Jessop