Amarillo by Morning

My Aunt Cathy lost her four year battle with cancer last week.

We traveled to Dallas this past weekend for her funeral, and my heart is heavy.

A few weeks ago, I was face timing with her and I had a sinus infection.  She kept saying, “Oh, you poor thing, you get better sweetie.”  The woman who was suffering from cancer wanted to make sure I was ok.  I had the sniffles.  The same woman who hugged her doctor at the end because she wanted him to know he should feel assured that he did everything he could for her.  In her time of need, she wanted to put him at ease.

The same woman who claimed she never got the middle cinnamon roll because she was the middle child so her sons always gave it to her when they were growing up.  The aunt who found a way to tell her partner in hearts what cards she had.  The lady who had the most creative gift tags, my favorite was cities of our names on a map.

They put the flags at half-mast to honor my aunt, a civilian.
 She made the paper.

I am lucky to have her in my family.

I’m happy she is in Heaven with my grandparents, but we sure miss her down here.

Growing up, when we would drive by Cowboy Stadium on the way to Mimi’s, we would always ask Mama why there was a hole at the top.  She replied matter of factly, “It’s for God.  So He can watch his team play.” 

Now I know it’s for my Aunt Cathy too.

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