FAITH MATTERS

Big deal birthday

Remembering aunt, her burps in the ear

I turned 43 years old last week.

For most people, I imagine 43 is one of those no-big-deal birthdays. With a few exceptions, most of our adult birthdays don't warrant the celebratory excitement we grew accustomed to as children. Maybe dinner out with family or a cake or a small gift wrapped up is all most adult birthdays require. They're just not that important or memorable. And for most people, 43 is like 34 or 57, just not something to get worked up about.

But not for me. I was really excited about turning 43. It was a milestone birthday for me, a pretty big deal.

Everyone has that one cool aunt. She's the one who spoils you. She seems to understand you better than your parents do. She somehow helps you make it through adolescence in ways that are hard to quantify.

My cool aunt was my Aunt Emily. She was my mom's sister. She taught me my first swear words -- which was a big deal because I grew up in a pretty strict home. She let my sisters watch soap operas when we visited. She always seemed to have better junk food at her house. She was just the best.

Only a select few people in my life call me "Bob" instead of "Robb." She was the first one to do that, giving me a special nickname for special a special person. And, when I was in junior high, she started burping in my ear every time we hugged goodbye. It was a goofy, if not gross, tradition, but it was our tradition. And I loved it.

When I was 16 years old, we discovered that I had been born with a faulty kidney. A kink in my ureter tube between my right kidney and bladder had caused my kidney to not develop as it should. I had surgery to remove the kink in hopes of regaining kidney function. Unfortunately, the surgery didn't work, and I eventually had to have my kidney removed.

Before my first surgery, I was understandably nervous. It was Aunt Emily who helped me get through it. As it turned out, she had the very same issue when she was young. A procedure to remove a kink in her ureter worked. Knowing she had gotten through all of this gave me hope I could do the same.

It wasn't just unusual kidney problems we shared. It seemed like we had the same hay fever allergies that made our noses bleed and the same propensity to get strep throat. Our ailments gave us even more of a bond.

When she was 42 years old, my Aunt Emily got the diagnosis we all most fear. She had cancer. Over a period of months, she battled it, but ultimately it was too much.

I was in college when Emily passed. I remember laying on the floor of my dorm room in shock and in tears the night my mom called to tell me the news. I had lost one of those people who had meant the world to me.

Much to my mom's chagrin, some time after Aunt Emily died, I began making jokes with gallows humor that, because Emily and I had shared so many physical ailments, I would probably die when I was 42 just like she did. My mom -- and later my wife Vanessa -- have never thought these jokes were funny. But I know they would have cracked up Aunt Emily.

When I turned 21 and would joke that I had reached middle age, turning 42 seemed like it was far in the future. But I got to it much faster than I could have imagined. My 42nd birthday was the kind you'd expect for a no-big-deal number. We had dinner and a cake, but nothing special.

Throughout my 42nd year, I thought about my Aunt Emily a lot. Because she had spent most of her last year sick, I imagined how scared she must have been. She left behind a husband and two young children. She had a deep and abiding faith, but facing death is enough to rattle most of us. Our bond was never far from my mind.

I didn't joke about dying when I was 42 until the very end of the year. On the eve of my 43rd birthday, I made a joke to Vanessa that I was excited about my birthday ... if I made it through the night. She didn't laugh.

Obviously, I made it through the night. And on my 43rd birthday, I celebrated with friends and family in a way the number 43 doesn't really warrant.

And I'm really grateful. I've got a lot more to do in my life. I have kids to raise and differences to make and a life to live. And as I do, I'll carry with me the memory of a wonderful woman who didn't have the opportunity I now do, to reach her 43rd birthday and beyond. I hope to honor her and her memory, but I really wish I could give her a hug and hear her burp in my ear one more time.

NAN Religion on 01/20/2018

Upcoming Events