Oh, Boy! A Tribute

In honor of my aunt Elizabeth Stewart Keeley, who went home to Glory today.

Aunt Elizabeth "Dot" stood stout, big bosomed, wide grinned and winking down into you until she found your giggle box.
"Oh, boy!" She sang everytime something took her by surprise.
She sang those words to me often. "Oh, boy. Vida looks just like me. Oh, boy." And I would tumble tickled pink on her quilt covered settee, relishing in her voice. Relishing in being alive. Hoping I was her.
Aunt Dot made me beautiful even when she were not around.
In college when my weight picked up and I refused to take another dance class.
"Oh, boy!" She sang the day I graduated from Agnes Scott. "You're smarter and prettier than me now."
I believed her until today.

The moment after I told my mom she passed.
Mama said, "I'm on my way to you, Vida. Just hold on."
I'm still waiting on her to get here.

I believe in God like I need air.
I can't breathe. I need God.

"Lizabeth passed about fifteen minutes ago, Vida," Daddy said to me over the phone. "You're alright, baby?"
"Oh, boy!" Is all I could say, because my chest is tight. I'm humped over the telephone fading...

I can't breath;Yet I believe.
I believe that Aunt Dot hasn't left this place, yet. Because I here her singing in me. I want to hear her say it one more time. "Oh, boy!" Why can't she say it to me just one more time. I called. I called. I called...I can't breathe.

My heart tries to make me feel better.
Maybe she said it when she saw Glory. "Oh, boy."
Maybe she said it when her soul soared into everything. "Oh, boy."
Maybe she sees me typing about her now. "Oh, boy."
Maybe...I need to just exhale.

My brother, David, doesn't know yet. I've been asked to tell him. But he's at work supervising Tyson Chicken deaths in Vienna, Georgia. I left a message on his office phone. Didn't seem like an appropriate time or place to talk about that.

He says that the chicken don't die in pain. "They don't suffer." Is his exact words.

Elizabeth suffered.

"Oh, boy!"

I can't go home to Valdosta. I can't drive down there to not hear her say that. I can't do it. I know I won't be able to breathe. I can't see David and remember the quilted settee, sugar cane poles, Selah's christening gown.
Pray for me.

Dee
Wdct for today- O. But I will do my pages before the day is done. She wouldn't want me to lose momentum.