Story of a girl

I added a lit candle to my collection tonight. My great-aunt Eleanor died of leukemia tonight. I have a set of candles on my coffee tables I light every now and then to remember people I love who passed away. My family condemns me for the candles because that is Catholic thing and totally ridulous idea. Well, it makes me feel better. Just like my obession over angel decorations (before they were stolen), they remind me that these people are not so far away.
I met my great-aunt, Mom's aunt, in 1992. My Mom and Grandpa took an extensive road trip through Illinois and Kentucky to view Lincoln sites to reach Tennessee where she lived. Doing family history she discovered my great-great grandmother's maiden name was Todd and from the same town as Mary Todd Lincoln. She has yet to prove a connection from lack of history on Mary's family, everything is about Mr. President. Eleanor met her husband, whom I never met because he either died when I was little or before I was born, as an army nurse and he was in the military during or just after World War II. He was from Tennessee (I think they met in California) so that is where they settled.
I met her as a delightful old lady in a trailer park where her and her husband moved to after he retired. She taught me a new game I got addicted to, Skip-O. My nieces like it too. In the pool I kept splashing her as she sat in a pool chair, I stopped when I got her sandals wet. She was our tour guide and begged us to stay another week. We did. A year later, my Grandpa died and she flew up for his funeral. I was so happy to see her again. In Mom's letters to her I wrote short notes at the end. At Christmastime, I added my own letter to Mom's. When I went into college we became pen pals.
She constantly suggested coming down for another trip. We (Mom and I) flew down in my first plane trip for a visit in Summer 2001. This time she was in an assisted living place. Eleanor was a bit more absent-minded and they both had troubles finding places with a map. Yet she still was the delightful old lady. No Skip-O this time. I met one of her sons and his fiancee over dinner. She even talked about her husband's pipe smoking as a never ending struggle to keep it lit. One of her sons has lung cancer like her husband died of. I did not know what her husband died from before.
We remained pen pals until last Thanksgiving when Mom told me that Eleanor would not live long enough to receive my Christmas package. She was in a hospice and doubtful her children would show her any gift I send. I read her last letter to me. She was so happy in October. Her first sentence was that I was a jewel from all the holiday cards and letters I wrote her. I cried. Her children didn't write so well.
Since my Grandma died when I was 9, I firmly believed it does not matter what you say about a person when they are dead, it matters when they are here. Eleanor knew how much I loved her. I will always miss her. From experience, that feeling never goes away.
Eleanor's epitaph I wrote at work:
The Fairie Eleanor met her prince charming in an army jacket. Years later she met an angel who became the jewel of her life. Good-bye forever Eleanor.