Cory Rose
AUNT JOAN 🤍
When I was eight, Aunt Joan stepped in to advocate as my legal guardian because my mother had stepped out to begin a new life in another country. Aunt Joan helped hold the thread of continuity when my world fractured, and she handled the things that mattered most while all else was unstable. She did it quietly, competently, and without theatrics. She didn’t replace anyone; she didn’t compete; she simply made sure I was protected in the aftermath of someone else’s disappearance.
She loved me wisely, without noise or judgment, and without rewriting narratives. With emotional maturity and restraint, she never asked me to take sides, and she never poisoned me against anyone. She let the truth speak for itself and trusted that I would grow into understanding it.
When I was eleven, I got on a plane and moved to Germany to chase the mother who left. Aunt Joan didn’t try to stop me. She knew I was pursuing something unresolved, so she loosened her grip and threw me a going-away party. She gifted me Rehoboth Beach Memoirs- a book filled with Rehoboth nostalgia and old photographs of our family- inscribing the following:
July 21, 2000
Cory,
I hope you enjoy this book and think of Mom-mom, Pop-pop, and all of us at the beach who have always had a special place in our hearts for you. How I will miss that million-dollar smile and those sparkling eyes of yours. May God go with you on your new venture!
Be happy!
I love you,
Aunt Joan
Her inscription was not casual; it was calculated. She anchored me to Rehoboth at the exact moment I was leaving it, giving me history as ballast for my journey into emotional open sea. She made sure I carried proof of belonging with me across the ocean and reminded me that I come from people who love me, and from a place that will be waiting if things don’t end the way I hope- because in Rehoboth, I’ll always have a home, and my happiness will always matter.
My mother sent me back the next summer.
Aunt Joan’s love was not abstract; she loved me in practical, tangible ways. She took me shopping when it mattered- not indulgently, but deliberately- making sure I had clothing that was acceptable, appropriate, and dignified for the school year. When it came to semi-formals, she guided me toward Perry Ellis and Geoffrey Beene, teaching me how to show up properly for the occasion, how to dress with intention, to have self-respect, and take myself seriously.
She not only helped raise me; she served as a guidepost for my dad as well. She steadied him when things were unclear and helped him hold onto his responsibilities as a father. Her presence, consistency, and care were delivered in forms of structure, and her influence moved through our family as foresight, shaping outcomes without demanding credit.
Because of Aunt Joan, I never truly drifted. I remained held by the counterweight she placed beneath the surface of my life. And now, as her physical existence is drawing to a close, I know with absolute certainty that I was loved well and fiercely by her. May her God go with her on her new venture.
