365 Days Of Love. Day 53

My aunt Tammy is one of the strongest people I know. My uncle Butch, Tammy’s husband, died in a car accident when I was a year and a half old, leaving Tammy with three young children. Sadly, I don’t have any memories of my own of Butch, but through years of listening to stories told about him by my family members, I’ve gathered he was kind and hardworking and personable and…missed. Generally, recalling memories of Butch begin with laughs, but end in tears and unfinished stories, stories that are too hard to finish because his life was ended seemingly far too early.

Although I have no recollection of my uncle beyond what other’s memories have told me, I do have an ammo of memories surrounding my aunt and three cousins. I simply cannot imagine the struggle one must overcome after finding out her husband died, but when I consider Tammy and my lovely cousins, I’m awed at how gracefully she conquered such a feat.

When I was little, time at Tammy’s was sure to be adventurous. Her and my cousins lived in a small town and we could easily run around after dark without fear. I remember one particular visit to their house, I fell ill and my grandmother said I couldn’t spend the night. I remember feeling so defeated, knowing I was going to miss out on an exciting endeavor, only to witness the events from my sister’s retelling. At Tammy’s we got away with a little more than we did at our own house, but we were always safe and even more, we were happy, fueled by mysterious fun.

Tammy’s three children also act as a testament to her strength. Her oldest, Casey, and his wife have found their niche operating a hunting lodge, something they’re both passionate about. Jeremy, the middle cousin, recently married an amazingly sweet woman, Rachel on what would have been his dad’s birthday. I’m closest to Sara, Tammy’s youngest. She has four beautiful children and recently moved into her mom’s old house. She’s so dedicated to her family, traveling all over SD for wrestling tournaments for the older two boys while towing along the two little ones.

Tammy and each one of her kids embody my image of strength. When health problems or tragedies or joyful news of unexpected little ones have arisen, they’ve handled it with serenity. Moments where I would have been in a tizzy, Tammy has remained calm and steadfast, as if her family’s well-being depends on her serenity and strength. Through loss and gains, moments of hopelessness and moments of joy, Tammy is strong.

The words I know can’t do Tammy’s journey justice, this story doesn’t depict my admiration for her. She has taught me that loving is excavating inner strength and allowing it to embody you, every action, every moment.