Sweet Potato Pie: A Short Story

“Is this the correct flavor?”
“Nope not it, keep adding!” Auntie Daisy replied as I continued to add all of her secret ingredients into the smooth, creamy sweet potato pie filling.
“Is this it now?” I asked, very frustrated after mixing the batter again.
Auntie Daisy gave me the look of satisfaction that said you finally got it. I was so excited because I finally learned how to make the perfect sweet potato pie!
That night before Thanksgiving was the blossoming of a close relationship. I stayed the whole night at her house bonding with Auntie Daisy by helping her prepare sweet potato pies for Thanksgiving and just enjoying each other’s company. After that night, I took it upon myself to walk her home from church and stop by her house throughout

the week just to “talk sh-t” as she said, and text her weekly to keep her posted on what was going on in my life. She was a short, red haired lady who always wore long, light colored skirts and was bedazzled from head to toe. She had every sparkled accessory you could think of, such as bracelets, necklaces, finger rings, sandals, and even hats. Auntie Daisy even had step stool and a jewelry box that she bedazzled. Her finger and toe nails were always bright and vibrant, usually painted red, yellow, or orange. To sum up Auntie Daisy, she was a short, bright colored ball of fire, or as she like to be called, a “diva.”
Every Sunday, I would sit directly in front of her in the back of the church to help her watch the little kids. She would always tell me to either take a kid to the bathroom or give me money to buy the kids, her and myself some snacks from the liquor store down the street from the church. Also, every Sunday, she would never fail to run up and down the aisle and start shouting “Thank You Jesus!” whenever she would get happy.
Although I knew Auntie Daisy from church, she did curse like a sailor. She cursed so much she one had to take me outside the church to curse me out because I did not buy my girlfriend at the time a gift for her birthday. My girlfriend’s birthday was two weeks before this happened, so I tried to explain to Auntie Daisy inside the church that she said I didn’t have to get her another gift, but Auntie Daisy was not having that. She called me out in front of my friends and then pulled me out of the church and cursed me out all the same.
“You don’t go to no girl’s house for her birthday without a f------ gift!

What the f--- is wrong with you!?”
Although she cursed like a sailor and had no filter in what she said, she was one of the nicest people you could ever meet. After making me look like a complete moron, she walked up the street to her house and picked up a brand new lime, green Betsy Johnson handbag for me to give to my girlfriend. Over time, Auntie Daisy became more than just a “church auntie,” she became like a second grandmother. I was comfortable around her, I felt at home when I was at her house, and we always had the best of times together. Whether it was making pies or just conversing, she became someone who I really cherished.
I knew she was sick when she stopped leaving her house. She was supposed to come to the first pre-prom party (I took my girlfriend to her prom) but couldn’t attend because that day she left a doctor’s appointment where she was told she could no longer leave the house. To show her love for me, though she bought the corsage and boutonnieres for both proms. Also she broke her doctor’s command and attended my pre-prom party. Now that I reminisce back to her final days here, my pre-prom party was the last time she left her house unless it was for a doctor’s

appointment.
I knew the end was near when I last saw her the day before I left for my vacation this past summer. All I kept thinking was she had cancer from the comments she kept making. I clearly remember her saying “Brandon, I’m really sick. The doctors aren’t letting me out the house. I wanted to make your graduation, but I think I would have passed out having to walk up the stairs.” My thoughts were correct because after she passed, I found out she had sarcoma which lead to her lung collapsing and a hole in it.
The sarcoma always had her drained of energy and she was no longer the “diva” I once knew and loved. She no longer had the spunk and fire she used to have, and was always in pain. She still cursed like a sailor but that would always be offset with her commenting on how much pain she was in. The last conversation we had was over the phone and it sounded like the morphine she was taking had taken control over her. That conversation was the first conversation we had where she didn’t use profanity. She sounded unenergetic, physically drained, and not like the fireball I knew. All she would say in the conversation was “I’m good” even though she was not.
A couple of days after I arrived home from vacation, I went to her house to visit her and tell her I was back in town. I knew she was there because I heard her voice but I couldn’t get in. I repeatedly rang the doorbell only to find out a week later it was broken. To this day, I wish I would have seen her because the next time I saw her, two days later, she was on her death bed. I was at a loss of words standing by her side because it was something that was unexpected not knowing she had cancer until after she passed and because I was emotionally numb dealing with other issues. The sound of her death rattles, the gray hair, how pale her skin was, and all the different machines connected to her made me come to the realization that I was about to lose someone who was really important to me.
It’s amazing how we don’t realize how vital people are in our lives until we lose them. I never would have thought that I would still be so hurt from her passing today. From this experience, one should learn to value people and let the important people in your life know how much they mean to you and how much you love them because they are only here with you once. Although Auntie Daisy is no longer here with me physically, I know she is my guardian angel and she forever holds a special place in my heart.