Purple Aunt Saw Every Shade of Rainbow

Purple Aunt saw every shade of rainbow

By Sue-Ellen Sanders

“I just try to be the best I can be and hope that is the best ever.”
-Tiger Woods

My aunt always expected the best from me, even when I wasn’t sure myself what life would bring.  She was one of life’s biggest cheerleaders, finding silver even in the dullest of linings.  Her name was Aunt Bobbi, but when we were little we called her the purple aunt, because she loved to wear purple.  In truth, she was our only aunt, my mother’s only sister, in any color.  And boy, we hit the jackpot with Aunt Bobbi.

Like the time I decided to run my first marathon.  I was single at age 29, sick of dealing with men and the games they played.  I was going to pour my heart and soul into running, a favorite pastime that had never let me down.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” my mother cautioned, at my announcement that I was registered to run the New York City marathon, a 26.2 mile road race that runs through the four boroughs of New York.

“That’s wonderful,” said my Aunt, as though I had already finished the distance and the running was only a formality.  “I’ll meet you at the end with champagne!” she joked.

After months of training, I flew into NYC with a handful of friends to run the marathon, not knowing if I would finish but only knowing I would try.  It was a quick 2-day trip and we had no transportation, so I called my aunt on Long Island to say hello and promise I would come back soon to see her and my cousins another time.  Then I went to bed to be fresh for the morning start.

Marathon morning was a flurry of hurry-up-and-wait.  We were bused out to the tent city that was the marathon start and then waited for hours until the actual start.  I ran the first 20 miles at a conservative pace and then, having figured out I was actually well-trained enough to do this, I finished the last 10K through the park at a personal record pace.

We were wandering around near the race hotel, surrounded by 15,000 other finishers at the end of the course when I heard someone calling my name.  It was my aunt, who along with my uncle had driven in from Long Island to watch me finish, somehow finding me in that crowd.  Aunt Bobbi clutched a bottle of iced champagne in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other.  She didn’t care if I was smelly and sweaty.  She gave me a hug that almost knocked me over.

We popped the champagne cork together. And I flew back to Florida to find out what was right around the corner for me, a devoted husband, an exciting career and finally, children of my own.  Over the years, the pattern repeated itself whenever I saw Aunt Bobbi-- Whenever I doubted myself, she had enough confidence for both of us. 

I was remembering how my aunt believed in the powers of thinking positive, when she was diagnosed with cancer last year.  If anyone could beat the odds it was Aunt Bobbi.   But, then, two days later she died.  Her family was devastated—and we were heartbroken.  She’d lived a full life, touching everyone around her with her magic wand, but it was too short, her death too sudden.

But, even in death, Aunt Bobbi made something magical happen.  All my mother’s children surrounded her, the four of us together for the first time in years, to mourn the loss of our purple aunt and celebrate her life.  I would have to believe that my aunt was in heaven smiling down upon us.