She was not our Aunt but we called her that because in the South some people become Family Members when they are drawn into the circle that is often shared and never neglected. Aunt Delores was one of those persons we grew to love in early childhood.
In those years she was a telephone operator and also she helped in our grocery store on Preston Street. Marriage to Louie Clavin took her north during the Second World War. They made trips back to see us on occasion. The warmth we shared was still there, pulling Louie into our hugging group.
The couple knew they had found the right house one Holiday season by looking in the front door window and seeing my Bride Doll standing on dispLay next to our Christmas Tree. Delores remembered that tradition was an annual event ever since Aunt Louise, also not an Aunt, had given me the Doll.
After their divorce, Delores began going south to Florida, making our home a stopping place to spend time renewing our bond of love and laughter. While there she helped in the kitchen and was the queen of cleanup, snatching a coffee cup out of your hand when the last drop was in mid-swallow.
A babysitting occasion proved Aunt Delores, without infant training, could be creative as well as comical. She had watched me make cereal for Duion and knew the process. While I took Nana K. for a Doctor’s visit, she rose to the task.
After Duion was born, I tucked all the baby girl items I had been given from a recent baby shower into the corner of the bottom bedroom dresser drawer.
When we returned from the Doctor’s office, there was Aunt Dolores, bouncing a smiling little boy on her knee, feeding him very lumpy cereal. He was dressed in an adorable Carter’s infant dress and she explained that “I couldn’t find anything else to put on him.”It is a dear sight that has remained in my memory of treasured times.
She was in tears when I asked her to be Geralyn’s Godmother. She had no children of her own and the title gave credibility to how all of us felt about her.
Aunt Delores was diagnosed with cancer just before I was leaving with my family to live in North Carolina. In those days, cancer was a certain death sentence. It was I who was in tears when she told me, “I guess this is the last time I will see you.” Aunt Dolores was always straightforward and to the point. We hugged and each tucked away silent thoughts of times we shared and the love we had given each other.
The memory of Aunt Delores is intertwined with the carefree card players at our family gatherings so when I hear the chattering of any group, she once again sits with the Kernens and takes her turn in shuffling the deck.