I’ve been told I first “met” her when I was a baby and she gently tossed me around a bit. I of course don’t remember that meeting, but I do distinctly remember subsequent visits and phone calls. My great Aunt Marge, Marjorie Eleanor Nunan Dyer, was my grandma’s sister. She was a strong, stoic, and extremely loving Irish woman who commanded the room and the affection of all who knew her.
My dad adored Marge, and their feelings were mutual. Towards the end of his life, he asked me to “take care of that old lady in Oak Harbor.” I visited her many times and enjoyed her colorful stories about my dad as a child. Marge was smart and wickedly funny, often regaling me with any and all sordid details from the past. She was also the keeper of family lore, and I listened carefully to all she shared about those who had come before us. She gave me history books about our ancestors and the place they called home — Whidbey Island. My phone would ring and there would be Marge calling to make sure I was doing well and to share her latest take on football, politics, and the world.
My husband and daughters were fortunate to know Aunt Marge as well. We have many lovely memories of time spent with her and we had the honor of being loved by her. To this day, we often employ her patented off-handed gesture of a wave that generally ended the conversation — whether due to disgust, amusement, or fatigue related to the subject!
The love of a Grand Irish Lady is really all one needs!
