Saturday, September 4, 2021
We are so sorry to hear about Aunt Pat.
The first memory that came up for Joe is of the time, when she was eighty, that we took her on a walk to Tsankawi, a cliff dwelling site in New Mexico. She was 80 at the time, so we thought we'd just show her the site and take a little walk and have a picnic. Aunt Pat was having none of that. She wanted to go on the real hike, which was not particularly easy.
We ate lunch together — turkey and roast beef sandwiches — in the shelter of a cave that had been carved in the soft rock of the cliffs by Pueblo Indians centuries before. Joe's dad always insisted on fancy restaurants and fancy food when we visited Santa Fe. Sitting with Aunt Pat on the floor of a cave with our grocery store sandwiches, looking out on a hundred mile view of the Sangre de Christo mountains, we had the best time. She said "This is the very best meal I've ever had in New Mexico. All those fancy restaurants couldn't hold a candle to it."
My particular memory of Aunt Pat is of the time she introduced me to a friend as "my niece." I barely knew her then, and I think I was still expected to call Joe's dad mister at the time, but Aunt Pat had a very different idea of what family meant. I had married in to her extended family, so I was part of her family. This touched my heart.
She told me that she always tried to teach her children to resolve differences, understand mistakes, and believe in forgiveness. She said she wanted them to maintain a close familial bond, so that one day, when she was no longer with them, they would remain a strong and loving family. We depended on her for emotional support when Joe's father died.
Claudia and Joe Chapman