On Friday, August 19th, at 11:11 pm, a large piece of my heart departed for her next adventure.
If you’ve known me for over five minutes, you’ve heard me talk about my Aunt Eddie. She has been a central part of my life since before my mother took a breath in this world. Without her, I wouldn’t exist.
Aunt Eddie is twenty years older than my mother. She was pregnant with her first son, while her mother, Mabel, was pregnant with my mother, Linda. At that time, Mabel was ill with a disease that eventually took her life.
Mabel was sometimes too sick to care for Linda, so Eddie did. She was a second mother to her from the day she was born. And when their mother died nine years later, Aunt Eddie became my mother’s rock. Her sister/ mother/ protector/ caregiver.
If you lined up my mom, Aunt Eddie, and myself, it was obvious that we were cut from the same cloth. Like human Matryoshka dolls, we were a set; we belonged together. It was always fun to see the surprise on people’s faces when Aunt Eddie or my mom explained that they were actually sisters, not mother and daughter.
It was a point of pride for both of them how they had survived and thrived together. Poor farmers’ daughters, they were indeed planted in barren soil. Still, with the resiliency of weeds and the strength that came from leaning on one another, they grew into breathtaking beings. Strong and capable, these were the women you turned to when things needed to be handled.
My Aunt Eddie was one of those remarkable humans that made magic in this world. There is no doubt that her magic was hard-won, but she shared it generously. She was a single mother to four kids, plus her bonus kid, Linda.
She worked hard every day and then came home to work in her garden, diligently canning the fruits of her labor. Her preserved goodies could then be stretched into delicious meals when combined with a bucket of government peanut butter and a block of cheese. And not just for her kids; she was known for feeding whoever happened to show up.
Aunt Eddie could make a thrift store dress look like it had been pulled from the racks at Macy’s, and she kept her children clean and safe. The “safe” part was probably the biggest challenge – they were a wild bunch!
The years passed, she married Earl, and the kids grew up and did the things kids do. They got married, had careers, and had kids of their own. She was always so happy to see the babies and hear about her grandkids and great-grandkids.
My Uncle Ernie (Junior to the family) and his wife, Jane, had a daughter, Brenda. Ernie was a couple of years older than Eddie, so Brenda is close to my mom’s age. (This may seem off track, but stick with me.)
Because of the age gap between my mom and her siblings, my cousins had grown up by the time I was born, and many lived far away.
And this is how I won the jackpot – I spent most of my life living right next door to Aunt Eddie and Uncle Earl, and for seven years (until my brother Travis was born), I was the baby.
In my mind, Aunt Eddie was mine, so much so that I referred to her as “my” Eddie.
Aunt Eddie took me on adventures in the woods, showing me the different plants and trees and explaining which birds were calling. She appreciated a good acorn and a unique rock, and we would often return from those trips with our pockets stuffed full of both (and with a nice piece of fungus for her to make art with to boot).
On rainy days, she would let me play with all the treasures she and Uncle Earl had brought home from their travels. There were gold nuggets from when they learned how to pan for precious minerals and diamonds mined from Herkimer. Sometimes, we would pack up the metal detectors and explore an abandoned homestead to see what we could find.
Aunt Eddie taught me not to take any guff. She taught me what it was to care for the people you loved. And she taught me how to make magic from a little bit of nothing.
As I got older, I learned more about her life and realized that she wasn’t exclusively mine. She had a way of caring for people that made them feel seen and loved. She was ‘Aunt Eddie’ to more of my friends than I can count and probably ‘Mom’ to an innumerable number of my cousins’ friends.
She loved me. She loved us. And she did it so very well. There is no more extraordinary legacy.
Love you forever,
Your Becky
i carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)
The morning after we lost her, we found this note that she had left us.
She must have written it years before, as her handwriting had declined as her dementia worsened. She is certainly still looking after us.💕
Below is the official obituary:
We are saddened to announce the passing of Edna R. Huyck Lee on August 19th. Edna was born on July 29th,1933. She was predeceased by her mother Mabel W. Huyck, her father Ernest W. Huyck, her brother Douglas L. Huyck, her brother Ernest F. Huyck and her son Ricky L. Beamer.
She is survived by her husband, Earl H. Lee, her daughters Sherrie Anepete and Lynette Beamer, her son Eric Beamer (Catherine), her sister Linda L. Beagell (Gary), niece Becky Beagell (Nathan), nephew Travis Beagell (Erin), niece Brenda Crowley (Joe), stepdaughter Diana Polumba (Jim), eight grandchildren, and many great-grandchildren. Edna is also survived by many Beamer nieces and nephews.
Eddie and her husband Earl have been married for 54 years. During that time, they traveled throughout the United States together. Eddie visited every state except Hawaii, while Earl made it to all of them via his time in the US Navy.
IYKYK
Edna, or “Eddie” to her loved ones, had a legendary ability to provide for her family. Even in the leanest of times, everyone had clean clothes, a comfortable home, and a delicious meal. Her generosity extended far beyond her own little family, as she welcomed neighborhood children into the fold, too.
She was also a talented artist who brought beauty to all our lives. She began drawing as a child, honing her skills with whatever scraps of paper she could find. Later she created incredible works in watercolor, acrylic, and oil. Though her paintings were remarkable, the most precious of her artwork were the handmade cards she created for birthdays and holidays; each one beautifully written and illustrated, custom-made for the recipient.
Eddie had a gift for gardening and grew head-turning flowers. Her garden was so stunning that passersby sometimes stopped and asked to take photos of it.
Eddie cared deeply for those around her and was always the first to show up with a pot of homemade chicken soup and the know-how to help you heal. Her caring touched many in her community over the years, and she was cherished by her many friends and family. Her kindhearted lessons in caretaking were put to good use during her own hour of need. Her niece, Becky, along with her children and sister, had the privilege of watching over Eddie and walking her home in her last days.
If you would like to honor Edna’s memory, please consider volunteering for Lourdes Hospice, spending time with your elders, and enjoying some chocolate cake.
At Edna’s request, there will be no calling hours or funeral. A graveside prayer will be held at the Riverside Cemetery in Windsor, NY.
Our heartfelt thanks go to Lourdes Hospice and Jill Julian for Edna’s compassionate care at home.
6 Comments. Leave new
A beautiful tribute to a wonderful life full of family and love. Sorry for your losses, you will come out stronger because of your family.
Sending healing thoughts.
Becky, I am so sorry for your losses. You are truly as special as “Aunt Eddie”, she would be extremely proud. Those are beautiful tributes to a wonderful, amazing woman. Good bless you through this time and keep Aunt Eddie’s lovely note close to your heart. She will always be with you.
*)<
😘😘😘
What a beautiful tribute to your Aunt Eddie. You were so lucky to have each other. My heart aches for you and I wish I could give you a hug. I hope your fond memories of her will bring you comfort.
Just now reading this Becky. My deepest condolences to you. However, this also fills my heart because you had such a loving deep connection with your Aunt. As the song goes….”and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.