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Great Aunt Della with Dean, 1938.
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However, being unemployed amongst family allowed me to spend time with my great uncles and aunts, including my most favorite, Great Aunt Della. As Della's designated escort, I chauffeured her to a variety of activities--family birthday parties, Sunday services at Elgin Bible Church and weekly shopping at Gromer's Supermarket. Our itinerary also included her brother Lymand's funeral in September 1984.
Anyone who knew Della knew how playful she could be and, on occasion, self-deprecating. She was also a little alarmist when it came to her health. That's not to say she was a hypochondriac. Rather, that she was not one to hide how she felt. Bert, as my grandmother Kate called her, had a weak stomach, a condition for which---much like the Eskimos and snow--Bert had a seemingly endless vocabulary of moans and groans.
"Oh, honey," she would confide with a strangled gasp, "Ah'm dyin'."
Over the years it became a game between us with established dialog. Back and forth we would tease one another. Throughout it all, however, I refused to be mean to her and point out that changing her diet might do wonders for her disposition. After all, she routinely snacked on liberally salted, raw cabbage, salted apples and copious amounts of Skippy peanut butter.
During the drive from Lymand's funeral service to the gravesite I was curious to find myself engaged in a different conversation with Della for a change. This time, she was genuinely upset about her dress.
"I hate this dress," she snapped, smoothing the dark wool fabric over her knees.
"What are you talking about?" I said. "It's a nice dress. You look good in it."
"It's an old dress," she countered. "I haven't had a new dress in years."
"You could get a new dress," I conceded.
"With what?" she countered again. "I can't afford a new dress. Social Security barely covers things as it is."
"So what's wrong with this dress?" I asked. "It's a perfectly nice dress. It still looks new."
"But everybody's seen me in this dress! I've been to every wedding in this dress--every funeral in this dress! Gonna be my funeral soon."
"Now, now," I said, warming up to my usual side of the conversation. "You look good and you're in great health. You're going to live forever and bury every single one of us."
"Well, if I do," she drawled slyly, "it will be in this same, old dress!"
I miss Della, and I think of her often. I wonder about all sorts of things, such as was she lonely? Had she ever been in love? Did she miss not having any children? Did she regret leaving her husband, setting aside a life and a decision that those around her insisted was not in her best interests?
She didn't talk with us about Fred, the man with whom she had eloped to Oklahoma when she was 20, but she did confide in my mother, Helen, towards the end of her life. From what Della had shared, the family had taken the correct measure of Fred, for he had threatened Della's life if she ever asked for a divorce. The opportunity to do so came and went some years later when she met a widower named Elroy Schultz with three children whose wife had died in childbirth. Della and the children were very fond of one another, and she probably would have eventually married him had he not become gravely ill with kidney disease and died.
On the surface, her failure to marry him looks like a lost opportunity when in fact it proved to be a major turning point. Years after the man's death, she told Helen that it was better for her that they never married because he had no interest in spiritual things. She felt she would never have come into close fellowship with the Lord if she had married him.
Della's life after Elroy Schultz was one of service to others. She was a founding member of Grace Evangelical Church where our family worshipped. She headed a weekly Bible study for women and actively supported the church's missionary efforts overseas. Children were her special charge, and she was extremely active with youth outreach through the church's AWANA, Sunday School and Vacation Bible School programs. She even volunteered at a local community center where everyone knew and loved her as "Miss Della."
Della also touched her family's lives with love, warmth and beauty. She was an artisan with a sewing needle, and her gifts of handmade dolls, quilts and Christmas ornaments are still prized (and fought over) by our extended family today. Her greatest gift, however, was herself. She was the undisputed expert on family lore, the family's reigning Scrabble champion and the undeniable favorite Great Aunt to us all.
I miss her deeply. But when I think of her and ask those questions--was she lonely? had she ever been in love? did she miss not having children?--I'm quick to remind myself that, although her first marriage failed and she declined to enter into a second, she had a very fulfilling life. She surrounded herself with family and enriched the lives of hundreds of children with her affection, guidance and love for God. She made a choice for spiritual things and was rewarded with riches on earth and in heaven above. Could any of us, I wonder, want for more?
