Goodbye Wanda

My mom called tonight to tell me my cousin, Wanda, died this morning. She was diagnosed with a brain tumor four months ago. She was fifty-eight.
She was actually my step-cousin but since I thought of my step-dad as more of a real dad than the one I had, I also considered her my "real" cousin. The first time I met her was when my mom and step-dad first married. I was nine years old and we had gone to his parents to tell them they had gotten married. Wanda was there. She was eighteen years old, had a twenty year old husband, and a two year old daughter. As her husband often reminded her, he "had to marry her" because she was pregnant, although the ass waited until she was six months pregnant to do so. She was a fighter, raising her daughter and later a son with a husband that was a drunk and a woman-chaser and that is a kind description! When I was in my teens, Wanda and her family lived in my neighborhood. We went to her house often and she was always looking for her husband. She was on the phone calling bars a lot trying to track him down.
As her children grew into teens, she got her GED, and managed to get through nursing school to her her RN license. Her husband was never supportive, but she was determined.
What I remember most about her, is her compassion. She always seemed to seek out the one in the group that needed encouragement, and she provided that. Many, many times it was me.
She came to my aid numerous times in conflicts with my mother in my teenage years. She always argued my side, and my mom listened to her, mostly. I cried on Wanda's shoulder more than once. She was the one I took my "boy troubles" to, and she always understood.
I guess my most vivid memory was several years ago when my step-dad was dying. She came into his hospital room, and although we thought he was comatose by that point, she leaned down and whispered in his ear. She sat there doing that for a long time, and seemed to have a lot to say to him. I couldn't hear what she said, but he looked comforted. I couldn't even look at him without breaking down into tears, but there she sat, saying all those things she wanted him to know before he died. And he did, later that day.
I haven't seen much of her through the years. Life seemed to take over and we sort of each went our own way. My family has never been much for get-togethers. I will always remember her strength, her compassion, and her spunkiness. She seemed like a wise older soul, even when she was young. She had a hard life, and it ended too soon. But she left a lot of people behind who loved her, including me.