November 3, 2020
Marie-Thérèse Audet-Holmes
My cousin, Marie-Thérèse, as I have always called her, passed away peacefully on October 3rd with her daughter, Jennifer, by her side. For this, I am truly grateful.
They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. Sometimes yes. Sometimes no. It certainly does apply, however, when in your youth you develop strong bonds with your cousins, but when suddenly, families go in different directions and move to different areas, these cousins disappear from your life. Does one forget them? Not necessarily.
Marie-Thérèse was one of three female cousins whom I adored. What does one say about a person that one has not spent nearly enough time with during their adult lives, but whom one came to love deeply in one’s youth? One can find quite a bit to say.
I remember Marie-Thérèse and her sister, Marguerite (who also passed away this past May), very well. They had one younger brother named Albert. When my brother, Paul, and I would visit my Aunt Claire, we were the happiest cousins in the world. We loved being together. Afternoons of playing were never long enough. More than once we would hold council to devise a plan to convince our mothers to let us have supper together, so that we might have more time to play. When luck was really on our side, begging resulted in sleep overs. If my Aunt Claire said yes, we jumped for joy. I do not remember arguing or having any bad feelings about any of my cousins. Oh, sometimes we argued about what game to play, but I never ever recall going home angry or not wanting to see them again. I only remember loving them.
What I remember, too, about those days are the interesting differences we all had. Surely Cousin Albert would become a priest or some sort of missionary, while Cousin Marguerite showed signs of being a future teacher or caregiver. There was no doubt in my mind that Marie-Thérèse was the artistic one and the most adventuresome of the five of us, as well. When we played, she became bored if the activity was not exciting enough.
When we became teens, Marie-Thérèse would invite me to her bedroom and show me the drawings she had hidden away. Both of us loved talking about art, music and clothes. She was a bit avant-gardiste in her sketches of women’s clothing, for Marie-Thérèse had flair. I remember feeling a bit envious of her being more daring and opinionated than I was at the time, but I admired her for it.
Marie-Thérèse was so dedicated to her art that she eventually won some prestigious awards. She was sociable and friendly with people in general. Smiling came naturally with her. I believe she always looked at life on the bright side and always believed the best in others. As a mother, she loved her family and cherished her children. That is what I remember about Marie-Thérese.
Despite the fact that she was bed ridden toward the end of her life, whenever I called her at the home, she always spoke in a positive manner. I never got the impression that she felt sorry for herself. If she happened to have received a home-made card or pictures from me, she thanked me profusely. It was as though I had mailed her the world in a teaspoon. She was so appreciative of the smallest gesture. She loved the Virgin Mary, God, and her family. That is what made her happy. That is what made her strong.
It is good to think about those who have passed away, for when we think of them, we come to realize that we had forgotten, along the way, so much of ourselves, as well. To you, Marie-Thérèse, I would like to write: Je t’aime. My heart will never forget the all-too-brief times I spent with you.
Blanca Baquero
My cousin, Marie-Thérèse, as I have always called her, passed away peacefully on October 3rd with her daughter, Jennifer, by her side. For this, I am truly grateful.
They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. Sometimes yes. Sometimes no. It certainly does apply, however, when in your youth you develop strong bonds with your cousins, but when suddenly, families go in different directions and move to different areas, these cousins disappear from your life. Does one forget them? Not necessarily.
Marie-Thérèse was one of three female cousins whom I adored. What does one say about a person that one has not spent nearly enough time with during their adult lives, but whom one came to love deeply in one’s youth? One can find quite a bit to say.
I remember Marie-Thérèse and her sister, Marguerite (who also passed away this past May), very well. They had one younger brother named Albert. When my brother, Paul, and I would visit my Aunt Claire, we were the happiest cousins in the world. We loved being together. Afternoons of playing were never long enough. More than once we would hold council to devise a plan to convince our mothers to let us have supper together, so that we might have more time to play. When luck was really on our side, begging resulted in sleep overs. If my Aunt Claire said yes, we jumped for joy. I do not remember arguing or having any bad feelings about any of my cousins. Oh, sometimes we argued about what game to play, but I never ever recall going home angry or not wanting to see them again. I only remember loving them.
What I remember, too, about those days are the interesting differences we all had. Surely Cousin Albert would become a priest or some sort of missionary, while Cousin Marguerite showed signs of being a future teacher or caregiver. There was no doubt in my mind that Marie-Thérèse was the artistic one and the most adventuresome of the five of us, as well. When we played, she became bored if the activity was not exciting enough.
When we became teens, Marie-Thérèse would invite me to her bedroom and show me the drawings she had hidden away. Both of us loved talking about art, music and clothes. She was a bit avant-gardiste in her sketches of women’s clothing, for Marie-Thérèse had flair. I remember feeling a bit envious of her being more daring and opinionated than I was at the time, but I admired her for it.
Marie-Thérèse was so dedicated to her art that she eventually won some prestigious awards. She was sociable and friendly with people in general. Smiling came naturally with her. I believe she always looked at life on the bright side and always believed the best in others. As a mother, she loved her family and cherished her children. That is what I remember about Marie-Thérese.
Despite the fact that she was bed ridden toward the end of her life, whenever I called her at the home, she always spoke in a positive manner. I never got the impression that she felt sorry for herself. If she happened to have received a home-made card or pictures from me, she thanked me profusely. It was as though I had mailed her the world in a teaspoon. She was so appreciative of the smallest gesture. She loved the Virgin Mary, God, and her family. That is what made her happy. That is what made her strong.
It is good to think about those who have passed away, for when we think of them, we come to realize that we had forgotten, along the way, so much of ourselves, as well. To you, Marie-Thérèse, I would like to write: Je t’aime. My heart will never forget the all-too-brief times I spent with you.
Blanca Baquero