Courtney

Ava was my favorite person in the world when I was a kid. She still is one of the most wonderful people I have ever met. She is my second cousin and an aunt to Garrett. From the time I was around six years old, every few months, Ava would drive four hours from the college she was attending to spend the weekend with me. She was gorgeous. She was tall (at least in my eyes), slender, had long, thick, wavy chocolate colored hair. Her skin was flawless and set off her huge sparkling eyes and full lips perfectly. She was also notoriously late, not a couple of minutes, but a couple hours. The good part of this is that she would also leave to go back home late too. Whenever she would go back home, I would cry for days afterwards. My parents loved Ava as well, but always had mixed feeling of her coming to stay with us because of how upset I would be when she left.
Outside of my grandparents, Ava was the one person I felt like I experienced complete unconditional love. She never put any expectations on me or scolded me. Every thought and scheme that came into my head was shared with Ava when we were together. She always responded like the things I said were of the up-most importance and brilliance. She would always rave about my bright red hair and tell me that she wished her hair were the same color. I loved having red hair, namely because of her.
Ava would play with me for hours. We would color in my Cabbage Patch coloring book, play with My Little Ponies, watch ‘The Little Mermaid’ for hours on end. At times, I would get to go to her house in Kansas City. She would take me to Chucky Cheese Pizza and to Toys R Us. We would get into her little sports car and she would take me through the drive-through car wash. I had never seen anything like it, the whirling brushes, the liquids of varying colors coursing down the windshield, the thunderous water pounding against the car—it was magical. We would go swimming in her pool and then we would make chocolate cinnamon cake together. Nothing says love like food. Nothing says eternal devotion like chocolate.
Many in my family are singers, and Ava was no exception. She was in a choral group at her Christian college. I played the tape of her singing constantly, until it was worn out completely.
When Ted was born, Ava continued to come down to spend time with me, and now with him as well. She was able to love us both so completely and equally that I never felt slighted by lack of her affection or attention. She was with us when Grandpa died. She stayed with us for several days, simply being with me and playing any game that I wanted. I remember thinking that if there was anything good about Grandpa dying it was that I would get to spend extra time with Ava.
Ava got married when she was twenty-seven. I was a freshman in high school, and Ted was only four or five. She was not able to spend as much time with us as before. But every time we see her, it is like we are the most important things in existence.
Now that I am older than Ava was when she first started coming down to stay with us—hell, older than she was when she got married—I am even more struck by the relationship she had with me and with my little brother. I love kids, always have, but I do not have the gift she has. She would spend days engulfed in strange little boy land (as much as what I have described can be labeled ‘little boy’ land). I don’t think for an instant that she was enthralled with every word I said or every childish activity we undertook, but she sure convinced me she was. She is one of the examples I have in my life of what love can look like and how to treat someone you love. Her love towards me was selfless, genuine, and true. Best of all, it was real.