The Passing of Auntie Phyllis

Auntie Phyllis was my dad’s sister, two and a half years his senior. She had a good innings, making 90 not long before her death the other day.

Auntie Phyllis

I have some idea of Auntie Phyllis’ early life from stories that my dad has told and have picked up bits and pieces along the way and in particular from the addresses at her funeral service and from conversation with other family members over morning tea following the burial, of her life over so many years.

Auntie Phyllis was portrayed as a fun loving dear old soul with lots of friends and a full social life. Her lifestyle was simple, without sophistication in terms of accomplishments, possessions, ambitions, wealth, social status.

All true, of course, but there’s more to Auntie Phyllis that was tip toed around at the funeral service.

Auntie Phyllis grew up during the Great Depression and the Second World War amid poverty, hunger, mal nutrition, alcoholism, domestic violence and unemployment, in a dysfunctional family with a broken relationship.

Auntie Phyllis chose to rise above life’s setbacks and by the power of God she did so! Hence the portrayal of a person who’d had a good life with lots of friends and great times.

One of the stories that Dad tells involves the two inquisitive children and their bewilderment at the communion wine in the Gospel Tent:

Willetts ran a Sunday School and Gospel service in a large marquee nearby on a vacant block. Sunday School was held on Sunday afternoons. Phyllis and I attended regularly.

They used to tie up the marquee entrance when it wasn’t in use. But one day Phyllis and I wandered over and thought we’d sneak inside to look around. So we got under the tent.

There was a huge wooden chest, and being curious, we lifted the lid and looked inside. There were all the Sankey hymnbooks, and, what a surprise! A bottle of wine. “The same stuff Dad drinks!” We couldn’t work out why they had it, when it caused so much trouble in our household. We had no idea it was wine for communion.

Understanding Dad’s youth explains a lot about the childhood and teens of Auntie Phyllis.

Auntie Phyllis worked as a nurse’s aid at the Greensbourough Hospital where among other tasks she did the washing and milked the cow.

At a later time, Auntie Phyllis became companion to Auntie Tot (Mary), her mother’s sister. Auntie Tot had married into some money.

The Auntie Phyllis who I knew as a child was pretty much a different person to the Auntie Phyllis described by my niece, Jessica, at the funeral service.

My Auntie Phyllis was quiet and followed the line set by Auntie Tot. We never got close.

Yet Jessica tells of a fun loving old dear, post Auntie Tot, who enjoyed having the kids around to make chocolates and cakes. Her social life was so full that although the kids knew the programme they would sometimes miss Auntie Phyllis but could leave a note on the pad she always left at the door for such occasions.

There’s part of me that wishes I could have got close to Auntie Phyllis, but what can a kid do in the face of such a powerful social institution?

Seems to me that Auntie Phyllis became her own person fully when Auntie Tot moved on.