Who Is My Aunt? Poem by Lone Dog

Yesterday, I accompanied
my eighty-seven year old aunt
when she visited her brother
in a long term care facility.
On the way out, we passed
six residents, each slumped listlessly
in a wheelchair and each lost
in some far-off, empty world.
Aunt paused and greeted each one
by name with a kind 'hello'
and a gentle pat on the shoulder.
When she did this, their eyes
lit up with joy and,
for a brief moment,
they became alive again.
Many times, I've accompanied
my aunt to this facility
and she never failed
to take the time to greet
these lonely and abandoned inmates.

That's who my aunt is;
a person of compassion and caring,
a person willing and eager
to step in when needed.
And that's what she did
when my mother died.
She stepped in when she was needed.