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May. 11th, 2002 12:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kuangningShe's been the strongest positive female influence in my life.
She stood beside her elder brother and the girl he married, even though none of the rest of the family liked the new bride, and she pledged to love and protect their firstborn child, and to be a second parent to her if need be.
I needed her a lot during the years before I could say I needed her, and she protected me. My own mother did not die, but my aunt became a second mother anyway, and it was she who bought me books, she who baked me birthday cakes and she who threw me the closest thing to a birthday party I've ever had. Even after my cousins were born, (two boys) she treated me as her daughter, and when she adopted my cousin Kelly Anne, it never crossed my mind that she would love me any less - and she didn't.
She didn't see us off at the airport, the day we emigrated. Instead, she came by the house the night before, to talk to me, explain that she wouldn't be there. And to give me a slip of paper with her number and her address, and tell me that she would always be there if I needed her. She kissed me goodbye, and she did me the favour of not crying until she was out the door.
I've seen her since then, talked to her on the phone - she has kept that promise to always be there. But the last time I saw her was years ago, and in the meantime, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She underwent chemo, and for a year and a half or so, it seemed to be working. My life has been so chaotic, that I've missed her visits. She's never met my children.
One of those phone calls last night, in the middle of all the chaos, was from my uncle in Florida. He called to say that my aunt was in the hospital again, and to have my dad call him. Today, my father did. My aunt is in serious condition, and is not expected to live through this weekend... Mother's Day weekend.
My family's reactions have been varied, and some of them are hard to deal with. My mother is already speaking of my aunt in the past tense - and that bothers me so much that I'm writing what amounts to a eulogy now, so that I don't have to. So that I don't have to say what kind of person she was. Because I want to tell you what kind of woman she is, and, in my heart, always will be.
She has a wonderful, offbeat sense of humour. She hates snakes, is a great cook, and has been in school taking one class or another all of her life. She holds four advanced degrees, all because she loves learning. I can say she's the most loving, generous person I've ever known, but you might not believe me. So let me put it this way. She was here for a visit four months ago, and I was not here. But we discovered only today that she saw doctors here during that visit, and that the doctor informed her then that she had only a few months left. She didn't tell any of us. Not her husband, not her sons, not Kelly, and not me or my parents. We asked her today why she kept it to herself, and she said that she didn't want any of us to grieve for her. She said that she loves us, that she's had a good life, and that she wants us to remember that. She said that if she could do it, she would make it so that there would be no funeral, no interruption in our lives. She said we weren't to cry.
I can't give her that. I'm crying - like I've been crying all day, like I can't imagine not crying for a long, long time. I want it over but I don't want it over - I just want her back, whole and healthy, I want to hear that this isn't happening and never happened and never will happen.
But life isn't like that - but I can do this. I can make it so someone besides me understands why and how I will always remember her.
She stood beside her elder brother and the girl he married, even though none of the rest of the family liked the new bride, and she pledged to love and protect their firstborn child, and to be a second parent to her if need be.
I needed her a lot during the years before I could say I needed her, and she protected me. My own mother did not die, but my aunt became a second mother anyway, and it was she who bought me books, she who baked me birthday cakes and she who threw me the closest thing to a birthday party I've ever had. Even after my cousins were born, (two boys) she treated me as her daughter, and when she adopted my cousin Kelly Anne, it never crossed my mind that she would love me any less - and she didn't.
She didn't see us off at the airport, the day we emigrated. Instead, she came by the house the night before, to talk to me, explain that she wouldn't be there. And to give me a slip of paper with her number and her address, and tell me that she would always be there if I needed her. She kissed me goodbye, and she did me the favour of not crying until she was out the door.
I've seen her since then, talked to her on the phone - she has kept that promise to always be there. But the last time I saw her was years ago, and in the meantime, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She underwent chemo, and for a year and a half or so, it seemed to be working. My life has been so chaotic, that I've missed her visits. She's never met my children.
One of those phone calls last night, in the middle of all the chaos, was from my uncle in Florida. He called to say that my aunt was in the hospital again, and to have my dad call him. Today, my father did. My aunt is in serious condition, and is not expected to live through this weekend... Mother's Day weekend.
My family's reactions have been varied, and some of them are hard to deal with. My mother is already speaking of my aunt in the past tense - and that bothers me so much that I'm writing what amounts to a eulogy now, so that I don't have to. So that I don't have to say what kind of person she was. Because I want to tell you what kind of woman she is, and, in my heart, always will be.
She has a wonderful, offbeat sense of humour. She hates snakes, is a great cook, and has been in school taking one class or another all of her life. She holds four advanced degrees, all because she loves learning. I can say she's the most loving, generous person I've ever known, but you might not believe me. So let me put it this way. She was here for a visit four months ago, and I was not here. But we discovered only today that she saw doctors here during that visit, and that the doctor informed her then that she had only a few months left. She didn't tell any of us. Not her husband, not her sons, not Kelly, and not me or my parents. We asked her today why she kept it to herself, and she said that she didn't want any of us to grieve for her. She said that she loves us, that she's had a good life, and that she wants us to remember that. She said that if she could do it, she would make it so that there would be no funeral, no interruption in our lives. She said we weren't to cry.
I can't give her that. I'm crying - like I've been crying all day, like I can't imagine not crying for a long, long time. I want it over but I don't want it over - I just want her back, whole and healthy, I want to hear that this isn't happening and never happened and never will happen.
But life isn't like that - but I can do this. I can make it so someone besides me understands why and how I will always remember her.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
*hugs care hope and support*
Date: 2002-05-11 01:07 am (UTC)If you ever want to talk to someone you only know online, I'll give you my phone numbers (in a more private form).
Raffi
Re: *hugs care hope and support*
Date: 2002-05-11 02:19 pm (UTC)