I grew up in a large, extended family where everybody knew that "the aunts" were in charge. The great-aunts, the regular aunts, and the women we called "aunt" who were just longtime family friends.
I loved them all, even the ones I was slightly afraid of. They were mostly all nurturing, and each one focused on feeding us first, bossing us around second.
They came in all sizes and personalities. Some were gentle and soft-spoken; a few others could drink and swear like sailors.
Some were addicted, before me. There were family tragedies and big family wars, and it was hard sometimes to keep track of who wasn't speaking to whom.
Still, nobody died who wasn't mourned by all. When my mom passed away, every aunt still living circled and held my sister and me.