Aunt Elvira

My Aunt Elvira passed away Thursday, May 15th, after a battle with cancer that lasted about two years. She would have turned 56 next month. Her obituary appeared in the Winnipeg Free Press.

For most of my life I've lived near my extended family members: I can't imagine what it would be like not to know my uncles, aunts, cousins, and cousins' children by name. My earliest memories of Aunt Elvira, for instance, concern her engagement to Uncle Ben, my dad's brother. First, I vaguely recall donning a pint-sized nurse's uniform (Aunt Elvira was an R.N.) for her bridal shower at Irwin & Marilyn's. Second, Uncle Ben and Aunt Elvira asked my cousin Peggy and me to be candlelighters at their wedding. We were five and four, respectively, and the number of buttons on the bodices of our fancy dresses matched our ages. (They were long gowns made out of a gauzy material in a blue and purple floral print, I think.) Rehearsal night went off without a hitch: each of us proudly carried a long taper all the way down the aisle and deposited it in a candle holder at the front. Too bad the florist went a little over the top bedecking the candles for the actual wedding day. You see, with all the flowers, ribbons, and floral tape, the candles no longer fit smoothly into the holders; without an usher's propitious intervention, we might have unwittingly burned down the church. I don't recall Aunt Elvira's reaction at the time, but I suspect, given her easygoing manner, she was quick to see the humor in the situation.

There seemed to be no project so big, no challenge so great, that Aunt Elvira could not summon up her ambition to tackle it. She was persistent, persuasive, and positive. She taught a Sunday School class of irrepressible (and hormonal) teenage girls, served as president of the Ladies' Fellowship, organized Christmas pageants, hosted parties (whether for baptisms, bridal showers, or graduations), and designed backyard landscapes with equal aplomb. I'll never forget the conspiratorial wink and the slightly drawn-out signal phrase "We-ell, you kno-ow..." with which she would launch into an amusing anecdote. She had a knack for making people feel special when she spoke to them.

We'll certainly miss Aunt Elvira at our Dueck family gatherings. I'm praying that the Great Comforter will comfort and strengthen her grieving family as nobody else can.