The Lady I Wished Was My Mom
Her resolve to love wholeheartedly shaped my entire existence.
Rebecca Murauskas and Aunt DeDe Vargo
My Aunt Dalene, DeDe, as I called her, was a gem of a lady. My heart smiles, thinking of her.
She cultivated joy and laughter and allowed me to feel seen and heard. DeDe loved me when I felt invisible and taught me more than she’ll ever know.
This was the woman that allowed my tender adolescent soul to be recognized when I mostly felt ignored.
She was a unique combination of a pragmatic dreamer — exuding kind thoughtfulness but also not afraid to drop a fiery f-bomb to ensure her point was made.
I Matter
When I was young, Aunt DeDe made the 90-minute trek across Michigan’s lower peninsula to visit monthly.
It didn’t matter if it was zero degrees with snow flurries or a sticky July weekend. She’d pack up her 10-year-old sedan with fruits and veggies from her garden or homemade treats and always a special treasure for me.
She was the one who brought me paperback books that morphed from Judy Blume’s Blubber to Stephen King’s Misery. She taught me how to make potholders from colorful fabric strips and painted countless clay figurines of kittens, ducks, and frogs from the local craft store with me.
I relished the escape from my single-parent, latchkey home to the wonders of her small, pastoral farm.
My school breaks and summers were spent trouncing through cornfields on made-up adventures, swimming or ice skating on the ponds, and digging snow tunnels in the deep countryside drainage ditches. Most importantly, in those indelible times in her house, in her presence, I felt that I mattered.
Someone did care. I was loved.
My home was adequate in the sense that I had one with a bed to sleep in, clothes to wear, and a smattering of cans and boxes that could be referred to as food in the cupboard.
I had a mother that was sporadically around, who checked a handful of the parental boxes of providing for me. She also stunted my growth and our relationship’s potential by neglecting my social, emotional, and spiritual needs.
Being acknowledged wasn’t part of my daily nourishment.
Being taught useful lessons and nuances of connection, esteem or identity wasn’t part of my mother’s capabilities.
I was expected to be an adult by age 9, taking care of myself and mostly staying quiet and out of the way.
Authenticity
A sense of safety arises in a child when they feel the consistent actions of loving-kindness. Trust forms and seeds of emotional intelligence are planted.
When I was with my Aunt DeDe, a calm peace enveloped me like a warm hug. Without any elaboration, I could be a playful child on a quest of curiosity or inquisition.
I wasn’t fearful of the deafening aloneness that was my typical days and nights. I didn’t have to pretend to be perfect or exaggerate stories of my 4th grade gold-star success to get love or attention.
My only job was to wake up and participate — or not — in whatever was going on around the farm. Or to be fully present in the moments I could savor with Aunt DeDe away from my mother’s judging gaze.
Simple as that. Simple as what a child craves and deserves.
Letters of Love
Aunt DeDe was the best pen pal on the planet. She may have kept the USPS afloat with how many letters, cards, and newspaper clippings she sent me.
Her written words mainly were surface topics of life on the farm, current events, or the challenging Michigan weather. However, she never failed to ask me how I was doing or acknowledge and share counsel on what I wrote in my previous letter.
It was a drawn-out molasses of dialogue via pen and paper that nourished me with her rich sweetness when I needed it most.
Aunt DeDe would include a few dollar bills in her cards, working my way up to $5s in my 30s. She often enclosed a clipping from the Detroit Free Press of a mountaineering adventure story from Nepal, a rescue incident of cheetah cubs in the Serengeti, or a stunning nature photo.
My Aunt DeDe knew the tenderest strings of my heart.
This was the most impactful puzzle piece of our relationship over the past 30 years and what I miss the most.
She took the time to go to the store, pick out a fitting card, write her loving thoughts, and drop them in the countryside mailbox.
This deliberate, gracious love was the breath that kept me alive when I wasn’t sure I wanted to be.
Celebrations and Loss
Today is my Aunt DeDe’s birthday. She would be 83.
And, a few days from now is the anniversary of her death.
We lost her to a variety of health complications that she begrudgingly never really wanted to address. They eventually overtook her as they always do.
It was Easter, and my youngest sister was visiting when our brother called to share the news. I was so damn grateful that I’d recently written her a card. And even more so, that I’d taken time to call the hospital on her birthday, repeatedly until she finally picked up.
Thankfully, The Universe whispered to me on my commute that morning, “Keep trying until you get her, or you may regret it.”
During our conversation, she was hopeful. She wanted to hear about me and my recent events and upcoming plans. By the same token of her sassy personality, she was also annoyed about being in the hospital after just arriving back in Michigan from her annual snowbird escape to Florida.
Repeatedly she said, when I get home in a few days, I’m gonna do this chore, and that project at the farm — and all will be fine.
She died three days later.
Never Alone
I am at peace with her passing.
This is the one person in my life, outside my siblings, that knows without a shred of doubt that I love her.
I expressed my adoring affection to her often and openly. In my eyes, she hung the moon and the stars. Why would I not?
To this day, whenever I see a lightning bug or hear the jarring vibration of cicadas, I smile and know that she is with me.
Still being the amazingly thoughtful, positive light that guides me onward.
. . .
Rebecca Murauskas is a Life Coach for professionals. She helps people be free of stress and overwhelm, reclaim their purpose, and feel fulfilled. Rebecca and her husband, Adam, abandoned their careers and moved to Panamá in 2019 to pursue passions for helping people heal. Take the free Time Saver Quiz and find additional content at RebeccaMurauskas.com.