Patricia Ingram

My aunt Pat passed away a few days ago.
Phenomenal. Death is such a magical experience for those of us left behind. An opportunity to reflect, to grow, to appreciate and to connect in ways we previously lacked incentive to try.

I volunteered to write a poem for the final service. I've written a few here and there, published a couple here on this blog in the past. They mean a lot to me. However, I am no poet laureate. I hesitate even to say poet. Though I am that. I write a poem or two every year. Enough, right?

I won't publish it here till after the funeral. Partly because it seems appropriate. Partly because I don't want to share my mediocrity. My ego prefers not to look too bad.

And yet, the best part of writing and publishing and reading this poem I wrote for Pat is how it affirms the great blessing she was in my life. She was unconditional support. If I said I was going to do something, go somewhere, be somebody she'd listen and encourage. If a suggestion came from her lips it was a way to do it bigger, shoot higher.

She had three children. Don't know if they'd say she was the same for them. Maybe yes, maybe no. For me, though, she was unwavering support.

As I got a little nervous about reading the poem that for sake of printing deadlines is unfinished but necessarily "completed", I imagined what she'd say if she were here. She'd say, "Well, I like it. You could probably do more with it with more time. Just do it. Get it in there." And then she'd smile, laugh or make some joke. Then she'd tell me about poetry she used to write or books she dreamed (literally, she dreamed epic novels).

We might say little else to each other for a long while. But I'd know she thought what I wrote was just fine. Perfect. Good enough!!!

God bless your soul Aunt Pat.
Truly I failed to appreciate how much you were my Champion!!