Skip to main content
facts & arguments

Mary Genord.

Mother. Aunt. Humorist. Cheerleader. Born Oct. 28, 1933, in Windsor, Ont.; died July 8, 2017, in Chesterfield, Mich.; of lung cancer; aged 83.

The skin on her hands was so thin you could see the blue and purple veins weaving tiny lines as if drawn with a fine-tip marker. I held them both in mine to offer her warmth. When I told her she was "so cold" she replied "I am so hot." This was just one of the juxtapositions in my Aunt Mary's life.

Everyone should have an Aunt Mary.

She was one of the kindest people I have ever known, yet could cut you down with one fierce glance. She was smart about ways of the world, politics and relationships, yet she did not have an education in the traditional sense. She was deeply funny and could evoke laughter that made your belly hurt, but you knew there was a strong sadness lurking beneath the surface.

Mary was born in Windsor, Ont., in 1933. Shortly after her father died, when Mary was just a young girl, her mother asked close family across the border in Detroit to care for two of her seven children: Mary and her brother, Frank (my dad). Mary lived with her aunt and uncle in the United States, where she attended school, then met and married Bob and raised their children.

I held Mary's hands in mine for the last time just two days before she died. A few months earlier, she had received a lung cancer diagnosis.

"If you promise not to feed me, I promise not to puke on you." This was one of the things she said to me during our last visit. My cousins had been trying to get her to eat for weeks. "I am nauseated," she said through laboured breath. We knew she was in her last days. It was the elephant in the room: A stupid, overpowering, obnoxious elephant that was waiting to sweep down and destroy her soul.

She was 83, raised five children – Robert, Cindy, Christine, Greg and Karen – and lived through the death of her husband, Bob, 11 years earlier. By anyone's account, she lived a full life.

That realization does not make the loss any easier.

Aunt Mary, Uncle Bob and my parents enjoyed the pleasures being "midlife" afforded them. The four travelled together, hosted elaborate backyard pool parties at my parents' house and frequented all of the local up-and-coming restaurants.

As I grew older, graduated from university, started my career and a family of my own, Aunt Mary continued to be my one-woman cheerleading squad. The two of us would go for dinner and laugh about the past while I soaked up her wisdom and advice – although admittedly, I did not always take it. Once my dad died, Aunt Mary became an even stronger familiar connection. My father and his sister shared mannerisms and a harsh disposition that, frankly, is not everyone's cup of tea. It was mine. I could drink that tea all day long.

On Oct. 28, Aunt Mary would have turned 84. It is also the birthday of my youngest daughter – a life coincidence not lost on me. As I remember my funny, fierce aunt on her birthday, I will hold in my heart the hope that I have passed her kindness onto my own daughters. Everyone should have an Aunt Mary. I am so grateful I had mine.

Patti Lauzon is Mary's niece.

To submit a Lives Lived: lives@globeandmail.com

Lives Lived celebrates the everyday, extraordinary, unheralded lives of Canadians who have recently passed. To learn how to share the story of a family member or friend,visit tgam.ca/livesguide.

Interact with The Globe