My sweet Aunt Cynth died May 10 at the age of 94. She and my mom are first cousins, but were always more like sisters. They were born the same year, grew up in nearby towns outside of Chicago, went to college together at Marymount and of course shared all of their summers together in South Haven.

There are so many things I love about Aunt Cynth. Two attributes that always amazed me is her incredible thoughtfulness and kindness, and particularly how she extended it to me. Even with her own seven children, twenty grandchildren and nine great-grandchildren, she always had room in her heart to remember me with birthday cards, valentines, Christmas gifts and our very regular phone calls. And our time together in South Haven has always been magical.

As Marion so aptly pointed out, Aunt Cynth took such interest in everyone else’s lives, and that was always true with me. She loved that I wrote a book on socially responsible business, was a commentator on NPR’s marketplace, and had a career in interviewing people and sharing their stories. Probably the smartest thing I’ve done in my life is to interview my Mom and all her cousins. With that, Tom and I put together a book that share the history and stories of our South Haven homes and life for the first half of the twentieth century. I interviewed Aunt Cynth and Mom together and their back-and-forth between them was just fabulous. I have that interview and all the others on tape and plan to get them digitalized to share with everyone. But here, I wanted to share just a few stories about Aunt Cynth.

It was the early nineties and the book I wrote with my friend, Howard Rothman, Companies With a Conscience, had just been published. I was living in the Bay Area at the time. Aunt Cynth and Uncle Dick happened to be out visiting Aunt Judy in Palo Alto. My friend Thaxter Sharp invited me to present the book (with slides) to the Bay Area Dartmouth club. We were meeting in a conference room at a very fancy downtown San Francisco law firm and I invited Aunt Cynth and Uncle Dick to the presentation. I remember it was a rainy day and without lights, it was very dark in the room. I was well into my presentation when Aunt Cynth and Uncle Dick quietly made their way in and sat at the back of the room. I was nervous speaking in front of an Ivy League crowd. When they entered I thought it was so different to see them in such a foreign “fancy” setting, versus on our porch and beach life in Michigan. I continued on with the talk and then all of a sudden there was a burst of light. I look up and Aunt Cynth had just taken a picture with her instamatic camera. With that I looked over and introduced them to the rest of the group. “This is my Aunt Cynth and Uncle Dick, visiting from Saint Louis.” With that Aunt Cynth cried out, “I had to take a picture, Mary Dear, you look so pretty!” With that there was a roar of laughter in the room, the perfect ice breaker, because I imagine everyone was thinking about their own Aunt doing the same exact thing if they were giving a presentation. I just told my cousin Kathy that I have never seen that picture but it’s probably me with an open mouth and wide eyes looking very startled. She said she will be on the lookout for it!

After I graduated from college in 1980 I began annual October visits to see my Aunt Mary Louise. She was my father’s only sibling, our beloved aunt, who was a nun with the Sisters of the Sacred Heart and lived in Saint Louis, where she and my Dad were raised. The bonus was that I was able to stay with Aunt Cynth and Uncle Dick and have some special times with them. I remember all their homes, but I particularly loved their last home on Washington Avenue. Long after we lost Aunt Mary Louise I continued my fall visits, most recently, with just Aunt Cynth since we lost Uncle Dick. The kitchen is old-school and filled with photos and notes in Aunt Cynth’s unique handwriting. We loved to sit out on the porch and take walks in the neighborhood. We shared a passion for quilts and a couple of times went to quilt exhibits. I loved the guest room, right next to her master bedroom. The full size bed always had the softest sheets and the most fluffy down comforter that offered the perfect amount of warmth, no matter the temperature. On one of my more recent visits Aunt Cynth could always sense when my trigeminal was getting the best of me and insisted I go take a nap. I remember thinking, “Here is my 90 something year-old aunt, with full-on macular degeneration, telling her fifty-something niece to take a nap.” But she did, and I always had the best sleeps there. In the morning, we would have our coffee together in the living room or porch wearing our nighties and robes. On Sunday my cousin Tim would pick us up and take us to the small Catholic Church at Wash U. It was a fabulous service with liberal priests giving thoughtful sermons to the very tight-knit congregation. I loved and cherish those visits.

There were a few special people who brought out the absolute best in my Mom. They included her Bronxville friend Mrs. Troja and her cousins, particularly Aunt Judy and Aunt Cynth. When with these few she would laugh more and allow her softest side to emerge. In South Haven, Aunt Cynth would walk across the lawn in the mornings to our house for a visit with Mom. There was nothing greater than hearing them chat and laugh and chat and laugh, just as they had for all their decades of being such close cousins, and even closer friends.

Aunt Cynth and Uncle Dick were high school sweethearts and got married just as soon as they were out of college here in South Haven. Aunt Cynth, who proved to be so practical throughout her entire life, did something that was very unique for the time. She had her bridesmaids, including my Mom, wear dresses that they had worn as bridesmaids at other weddings. So she had a wonderful collection of bridesmaids’ dresses to accompany her beautiful wedding dress. I just always thought that was so cool. I will get a pic to post here.

I am sitting on the 317 porch with Aunt Cynth. It was her last visit to South Haven and the last time I would see her in person. There is a unique stretch that she is here with just three sons, Timmy, Ricky and Gary. There is a lot of opportunity for me to spend time with Aunt Cynth as the boys are out playing tennis or working on projects at 317 or at Lucky Stone. We sit on the porch with the lake to our backs and there is a gentle breeze. Aunt Cynth takes my hand. With her other hand she strokes it oh-so gently. We marvel at how many birds are singing around us. We talk, and then we are quiet. We are very comfortable with our silence. Everything slips away except for the warm breeze and soft, loving strokes on the top of my hand.

It’s early in the morning and I have a morning flight out of Grand Rapids. I have Sid, my then-regular driver, in the driveway waiting to gather me and my bags to take me to the airport. Mom gets up, of course, and makes me a sandwich to enjoy on the trip. It’s not even fully light out and there is a soft morning fog and mist in the air. I look over the big lawn and there are Aunt Cynth and Uncle Dick, in their robes, making their way over to say good-bye. This happened countless times, with Aunt Cynth continuing to do so after we lost Uncle Dick. No matter what the hour, she was always there for a good-bye hug and kiss.

Aunt Cynth’s signature send-off, whether in person or on the phone, has always been “Bye Bye for Now.” I just loved it. In fact, I adopted a shorter version, “Bye for now” for myself. At first it was conscious, but then it became unconscious. I don’t even think about it, it’s just what comes out of my mouth when saying good-bye, and I hope  a homage to my aunt. Last New Years, Aunt Cynth called me with my cousin Carrie. I wasn’t at my phone so they left a message which I still have saved. Aunt Cynth says, “Hi Mary, it’s Aunt Cynth and Carrie. We are thinking so much about you and wondering how you are. I am so looking forward to seeing you in South Haven this summer. Bye bye for now.” Bye for now, Aunt Cynth. I love you.