Amanda Lamb: The pretty one

As women, our goal is to help shape our children, especially our daughters, into strong, productive, kind human beings. To this end, it’s important to understand who shaped up and how.

“She was the pretty one,” my mom used to say about her older sister.

It always made me laugh that she was so self-deprecating about my Aunt Pam. But, in truth, my aunt did look a lot like Elizabeth Taylor when she was younger with her stunningly perfect coiffed black hair, porcelain skin and ruby red lips. My mom was known as the studious one, while my aunt was the more creative, theatrical sister.

They grew up in a simpler time — the 1940s in small town America — Concord, N.C. My mother specifically recalled how at that time they still had to wear dresses even when they played outside. She would close her eyes and tell me about how she could feel those scratchy weeds brushing up against her legs as they chased each other across a field near their house.

They were best friends by default — at that time, in rural America, your siblings were likely your only playmates. But as they got older, they became best friends by choice even though my aunt stayed in North Carolina and my mother lived in Pennsylvania.

With my mom and grandparents gone, my aunt is now the keeper of our family’s history. At 82, she has experienced her share of health issues and was recently placed in a hospice program. I had the pleasure of visiting her this past weekend. I wanted to ask her so many things, but I also didn’t want to overwhelm her with questions.

As my cousin adjusted her pillows, refilled her water cup and inquired with the staff about her medications, I reminded my aunt of some of my earliest memories with her — hanging out with her on her screened-in porch on a hot summer day, talking about books, writing and theater.

Like most kids, I found my mother boring and overbearing, but my aunt seemed liked a magical free spirit who accepted me without the judgment of a parent. I can still picture her in a 1970s flowing maxi dress with a blue and white checked pattern, a big starched sash fashioned into a bow, and a high collar. It was elegance and grace combined.

Like so many people who influence our lives, I don’t remember what she said, I just remember how she made me feel — special.

We are the sum of the people who raised us, who supported us, who cheered for us. They aren't just parents, but grandparents, aunts, uncles, siblings and cousins and all the people who help make us who we are.

My aunt will always be part of the patchwork quilt that is my life. In turn, I hope that I too can be that person for my daughters, my nieces and eventually my grandchildren.

At the end of our lives we are the sum of how we make others feel.