I am an auntie. It’s the thing that I am best at, which is somewhat ironic because it’s the one thing that I never had to do for myself. There was absolutely nothing I could do to make it happen. It was completely out of my control, and yet, it is the thing that has given me immense joy since the moment I became it. And it has given me a chance to leave a legacy in this world that I had never even considered.

Being a single, childless woman means that I spend a lot of time alone and I can’t always be with the people that I love as much as I would wish. Ironically, quality time is my most cherished love language. To alleviate the feeling of missing out on that time I took to creating things for my loved ones whenever possible. For their second birthdays I sewed aprons for my nephew and my nieces, a request initially given by my sister-in-law who enjoyed baking with her firstborn. Birthday #3 became crocheted afghans. If I couldn’t be physically present with them, then at least I could spend my time creating something for them and weaving love into those creations.

By his fourth birthday I decided that my nephew had enough stuff. In lieu of a present that would end up in a pile with all the others, I gifted him my time. I figured that by the ripe old age of four he would be comfortable enough to hang out without his parents for a few hours – and that I would be comfortable enough to drive him somewhere during an unpredictable Canadian winter! So we went to an old fashioned winter celebration at a local museum where we played and crafted and learned about the past.

In the decade since that outing, I have taken him and his sisters to numerous places: art galleries, movies, mini-golfing, and nature centres. Because I live in a different city from them, our dates don’t always coincide with their exact birthdays. We’ve been known to have dates a month (or even more) after their actual party, sometimes tag-teaming them by taking the first birthday kid one day, followed by the next kid the following day. This resulted in me seeing the LEGO movie twice in two days because what’s the perfect birthday date for one kid seems to be the exact thing that the other kid most wants to do.

Even though my original goal was to give them an experience they hadn’t previously had, I’ve learned that it doesn’t really matter where we go, what we do, or when the date actually happens.One time we just went to the river and threw rocks in as far as we could. The point is simply that we spend time together, just the two of us. In fact, birthday dates became such a big deal that the littlest one was so excited to turn four just so she could finally go on one like her older brother and sister had been doing.

When she was in Kindergarten people would ask her what she wanted to be when she grew up. Her answer was consistent: I want to be an auntie. My sister-in-law assures me that this life goal stemmed from the auntie model that I have been showcasing for her all this time. To her, I am an additional, heavily involved adult who is immersed in her life. When I come to visit it is specifically to see her and her siblings. I am there to play at the park, to build LEGO, to make crafts, to play dolls, to watch their favourite shows, to simply exist in their space with them doing the things they want to do. I am more present with them than I have ever been with anyone at any point in my life. As it turns out, I am incredibly gifted at being an auntie.  

I realize that in the end I may not have much to leave them, or anyone else, in terms of financial supports or material things to hold onto after I am gone. But they will have the memories we built together. Memories of the time I can give them precisely because I do not have children of my own. For some people, that may not seem like enough compensation for a childless life. For me, it is enough and I am so grateful that I grew up to be an auntie, even though I had no idea it was what I always wanted to be. I get to invest my time, attention, and energy into the children of others that I have been fortunate to love in this life, in the hopes that I can provide a model of what it means to be a kind, compassionate human who tries to make a positive difference in the world. Some of us don’t consciously choose the legacy we leave in this world. Sometimes it is assigned to us, and while it may not be what we had expected or planned for, we have the ability to make it a beautiful gift for those that we love. And to make it the most beautiful example of a life well-lived, and well-loved, despite what the world has consistently tried to tell us about the lesser value of a childless woman’s life.

Rae Ann S. Van Beers

Photo credit: @jchuphotography