I Learned How to Drive Stick in a Porsche: The Importance of Pouring into Other People’s Lives

Yesterday morning I received a call that I have honestly been expecting, but dreading, for awhile now. My precious Auntie Mary had been declining and at age 92, she had lived a full and beautiful life. She had suffered the loss of two husbands and two children. She had treasures in Heaven to go home to. I know that my dad is happy to see his “Manya” and my mom is welcoming her sister home.

My Auntie Mary was beautiful. She was beautiful on the inside and quite stunning on the outside. No one would have ever guessed that she grew up poor or that she had limited opportunity as a child because she possessed a class that can’t be taught. Her home was always a hospitable place and even many of my friends were welcomed in.

Much of my childhood was spent at Aunt Mary and Uncle Pete’s home in Newport Beach, California. They were steps from the sand so adults could sit on the patio and kids could go to the beach. Each Christmas that my mother hosted, Aunt Mary would invite me, and sometimes my cousin Marie, to spend a few days with her as her own children were grown. She would sew something for us or teach us how to bake something, and we basked in being spoiled by her.

Because Aunt Mary had grown up in East Los Angeles, she had this uninhibited side as well. She liked things a certain way to be sure, but then she would surprise you with her willingness to try something a little sketchy. I have a great memory of driving to Mexico in the back of my cousin Kristy’s pick up truck (with, you guessed it, NO seatbelts and NO sunscreen) to visit a Mexican doctor after American doctors had been unable to help Aunt Mary with some digestive issues she was having. Kristy’s kids and I came home sunburned down one side (we had fallen asleep kind of spooning one another) after crossing the border and visiting Dr. Who-knows-if-he-was-really-a-doctor…in a Mexican border town. I remember sitting outside the “building” when she went in thinking that my mom had not fully understood what we were up to that day. My aunt would just giggle and say, “What are you worried about?” I can hear her laughter in my head as I write this.

Uncle Pete and Aunt Mary always had great cars, cars that my family of 5 would never own because it just wouldn’t be practical. In high school, she was visiting our home shortly after I got my license and my high school boyfriend was trying to teach me how to drive stick. Let’s just say, driving has never been my thing and I have doubts that I should have been awarded a license at all at 16…and I sure had no business driving anyone else’s car. I was not getting the hang of it so we came in for a break when Aunt Mary said, “It’s the car. She can do it. Take mine.” So I learned how to drive stick in a brand new Porsche…that was my aunt.

It was through the relationship my mother and aunt shared that I learned what it looked like to be a good sister. To be clear, Auntie Mary was my father’s sister. Mom and Mary were sisters through marriage. Their love for one another was a result of their love for my dad and yet, it was a bond that I got to experience and learn from. I remember my mom telling me how Aunt Mary had welcomed her into my dad’s family when his all-Russian clan did not know if they were excited about the little Venezuelan girl my dad had found in college. But with my mom’s family all living in a different country, she was beyond appreciative for the outstretched hand that turned into a deep friendship. I watched each of them care for one another in dark times. My mom taught my aunt how to balance a check book and make a budget after my Uncle Pete died and my aunt would bring food to our family whenever crisis hit. Aunt Mary had a way of making dire situations seem surmountable and my mom often knew practically what was needed to make that real. They had little in common but they shared so much. I learned that this kind of sisterhood was possible through marriage, and I get to share this now with my own brother’s wife, who like me, doesn’t have a sister. So grateful. So grateful.

Today I reminisce…I remember Aunt Mary taking me to Oregon to my cousin Marcia’s farm. I remember shopping downtown LA at the garment district, walks on the beach, sipping chai out of Russian mugs, sharing family secrets, her call on my 21st birthday to my college dorm room. The flood of memories reminds me of how important it is to pour into the lives of those who God ordains for you to influence. Aunt Mary poured into me so today I mourn the loss of her sweet soul on earth but I also lift my hands to Heaven in gratitude for time I had with her and for all she taught me.

Sonia
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