In the past year, not a day has escaped me where I do not think about my mommy’s baby sister, my Aunt Darlene. Along with my mother and grandmother, she was one of the most influential women in my life. While I beamed when she told one of her nurses that she actually had three children (my cousins Mark, Reggie and me) instead of two, the truth is my aunt had been helping to mother me for quite some time. And as only a mother can, she taught me lessons about life and loving people that would prove to be some of her greatest gifts to me.
Though she was 24 years older than me, I can remember defending my aunt quite a few times in my childhood. My aunt was, what some would call, “different” and consequently people believed they could take advantage of her. Whether family, friend or foe, I took defending my favorite aunt (a title that had nothing to do with the extra cookies, cake and ice cream I got when I went to her house) with great pride. However, as a kid, I would be confused when the next time my aunt saw that offensive person, she was happy and excited to see them. Did she forget what they said? Surely I didn’t. How could she feed them? How could she help them? How could she be happy to see them after what they did? It was only until this past year that I understood my aunt’s capacity to love people. It was beyond anything that seemed humanly possible. That’s how I knew it was of God. That’s how I knew it was God.
A few years ago, I visited my aunt and she had a Spanish bible. “Ummm what are you doing with that?” I asked her. “Reading it, what you think?” She was quite witty and snappy. “No you aren’t. You don’t even know Spanish.” “Yes I do Candice Marie!!!” “Now you don’t.” “Oh my goooosh, why you bothering me?!” “Okay then. Prove it.” My aunt took a big sigh, opened her Bible, turned to a passage and said “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” We both erupted in laughter. Even still, I thought my aunt having a Spanish bible made no sense. I knew she had Hispanic neighbors and would attend church services with them. But it would be during the last year of her life that I would truly learn just how impactful my aunt sought to be.
She lived next door to a Hispanic family. They seemed nice; I didn’t interact with them much when I would visit Aunt Darlene and Reggie. I would pass their house often and see my aunt sitting and talking with the mother and my cousin Reggie chasing the kids with water ballons or digging in the dirt with them. My aunt told me that Mrs. Mary, her neighbor was her best friend. Later we learned that, when they moved there, Mrs. Mary spoke very little English and my aunt offered to teach her English in exchange for Spanish lessons. Mrs. Mary’s children came to know my aunt as their aunt because she would care for them whenever Mrs. Mary and her husband needed additional assistance. For a family of a completely different culture and ethnicity, my aunt provided refuge.
In my aunt’s “difference”, she taught me more about Christ than some sermons or songs. She lived His life. Her love kept no record of wrong against those who would seek to wrong her. Her love was kind to the neighbor who left all things familiar and came to a foreign land. Her love was patient with a neice (and sister) who didn’t seem to get to the movie theatre on time so she could watch the previews. I never saw my Aunt Darlene angry at anyone or heard her say anything harsh in my life. Her life emulated who I want to be- who we all should be- loving, protective, generous and kind.
There are moments I wish I could crawl into my aunt’s bed and watch another episode of Gunsmoke with her. There are times I would give anything for another game of Connect Four or to shop for our matching Christmas Eve pajamas. My heart yearns for another chance to glance over at her from the drivers seat, laughing uncontrollably, because she’s singing the wrong lyrics to yet another song with wild abandon. Most importantly, I wish I could run to her and say “Aunt Darlene I’ve got it! I’m learning how to love right and it’s all thanks to you!” But those moments will not come; instead my life has to be my gratitude. By giving someone Christ every day, I will show that I recognize how unbelievably blessed I am to have been allowed to be known and loved by her. I may never understand why God allowed me to witness her take her last breath but I do know that I learned so much from seeing how she chose to use the many that came before that one. May I continue to grow in amazing grace so that I can offer the world love, the type of love that can change people, until I see her again.
Darlene Lynell Benbow
December 17, 1957 – November 2, 2010
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