A Strange Feeling
The past few days I woke up early, feeling restless and weird. Uncomfortable.
Yesterday marked one year since I lost one of the incredibles in my life. My lovely aunt died at 68 after a 12 year battle with breast cancer. She was amazing. She touched everyone in her life who crossed her path, right down to strangers in grocery store aisles who became friends by the time they reached the check-out.
I was lucky enough to not only know her, but be enmeshed in her life since I was born. I even lived with her during a time in my troubling high school years when I couldn’t exchange greetings with my parents without an altercation. She treated me like a daughter, curfews and all. She is pictured above at my high school senior recital 13 years ago.
For years, I was there when the lumps were present, when they were removed, when they were back but stabilized, when they had spread, but didn’t seem to affect her. She was always wildly optimistic and had exceeded doctors expectations every time. She didn’t want us to worry, because she always felt fine. So in a way, we didn’t.
At the end of the road, I wasn’t there. I didn’t see the last harrowing months or painful final days. I didn’t go to the funeral. At the time, it just wasn’t feasible, but thinking about it now, I don’t know how I would have coped. I didn’t know how to face losing her. Even now, I’m not sure if I did the right thing.
Her life was full, overflowing at times. She was an English and drama teacher, but even busier in her retirement with community involvement, writing, and spending time with her children, grandchildren and hundred closest friends.
A few years ago, I was involved with a fundraiser for Locks of Love and donated my hair in her name. Here are a few words I wrote about her for the benefit.