Warmest regards: People I want to emulate

By PATTIE MIHALIK

“Be the things you loved most about the people who are gone.”

I saw that little message on Facebook and it spoke to me. That’s because I’ve been trying to do that for decades.

Sometimes I manage it.

Sometimes I fail no matter how hard I try.

For much of my life the person I most wanted to emulate is my Aunt Rose. Telling you why she is so special in just a few paragraphs is hard. But I’ll tell you this.

From the time I was a girl of about 10, I realized my Aunt Rose was special. She had four sisters, all beautiful and all into the importance of looks.

Rose never concerned herself with how she looked or what others thought of her. Sometimes her sisters said her behavior was scandalous.

That’s because she did unorthodox things like bringing home a mentally challenged man who had no place to live and no one to care about him.

Filled with compassion, Aunt Rose could never see anyone hurting without trying to help.

When my parents divorced, my mother was left with no place to live and no means to support two children on her own. It was my Aunt Rose who got her through it.

Although she only had a small house, Rose made room for us in her home and in her heart.

I loved listening to her stories at the dinner table. Often she was ranting about how the union was trying to put her out of business. As the young owner of a very small dress factory struggling to survive, she was often in verbal battles with the ILGWU.

Oh, one thing I forgot to tell you. She was forceful and persuasive with a booming voice. People tended to do whatever Rose wanted.

One day at work, someone gave her an aspirin for her headache. No one knew it was penicillin, to which she was allergic. She died instantly at the age of 54.

She left this world, but she never left my heart.

At her funeral, so many strangers came forward to tell us how she helped them.

I never stopped trying to be like her. But even when I tried to do something mundane like organize a family reunion, no one listened to me like they did to Rose. I simply didn’t have her forceful personality.

When I applied for a good-paying office job with the union Aunt Rose was often battling, I thought they might hold my relationship to her against me.

Instead, I got the job because of her.

“I picked you,” the union boss said, “because you remind me of your Aunt Rose. She was someone I highly respected and admired.”

Few compliments have made me prouder, even though I know I can never do half the good she did.

But I keep trying.

I also keep trying to emulate the strength my mother had in life. When I have to go through a painful procedure, I close my eyes and think of my mother and all she endured, telling myself her strength runs through my veins. It always gets me through the situation.

I try, too, to emulate my father’s unconditional love. He always made clear he didn’t love me because I did well and achieved some nice things. He loved me simply because I was his daughter. I never had to earn his love. It was always there, always unwavering.

After Dad’s health failed and he could no longer drive, my sister and I complained that my brother didn’t travel to see him. My father shushed us, saying, “Never complain about family.”

Family was priceless to dad. He taught us to stick together without judgment. It’s sometimes hard, but Dad drummed into us family is sacred.

If he knew something negative about someone, he never repeated it.

As I age, I’m a little bit better about not judging. But I have a long way to go.

I like that quote about being the things you loved most about people who are gone.

My husband, Andy, died 15 years ago. I learned some important lasting lessons from him, but I think it would be impossible for me to emulate Andy.

When we first met my friends, I called him St. Andrew. He remained that way until his death.

In more than 41 years of marriage, he lost his temper with me once. Looking back on it, it seems impossible to believe.

Another thing that’s hard to believe is how Andy could endure so much pain and illness without ever complaining.

He never complained. Not once. He endured two debilitating strokes and three cases of cancer in a remarkably stoic way.

Contact Pattie Mihalik at newsgirl@comcast.net.