In my lifetime, I have experienced the deaths of four loved ones. My mother's great-aunt died when I was 10, my grandma (on my dad's side) passed away when I was 12, and my great-grandma (on my mom's side) followed when I was 16. Last week, my aunt died, and unlike all the other times, this time I was absolutely shocked.
My great-aunt and great-grandma were both in their nineties when they died, and they had been very sick for quite a while. My grandma was nearly seventy, and her health was in decline for several months before her death. My aunt was fifty-nine and we had less than a week of warning before she died.
My dad has a large family - five sisters, two brothers and him. His parents are both dead (his father passed away before I was born), and the siblings are scattered all over the province - one even lives in Alberta. Despite that, it's a very close-knit family, with eight grandkids (only 4 of the siblings are actually married). Save for the ones in Alberta, we all visit at New Year's, Easter, Mother's Day, Thanksgiving, and Christmas; even the Albertians fly in during the summer for a 'family reunion'.
Because of this, I last saw my aunt at Christmas, right before she left for her snowbird condo in Florida. At Christmas she was kind of thin and tired, but our whole family always naps at Christmas, (sometime between the gifts and the turkey) so I didn't think anything of it.
Then, about two weeks ago, my mom told us all at dinner that she 'needed to talk to us'. Now, I just know that anytime my mom says anything in that ominous a tone, that something bad is happening. She tells us my aunt is sick in Florida. I'm not sure exactly what that means, but it's clearly something bad. When I hear 'sick', I think having a cold or a fever or something. People don't call their relatives back home to inform them about something like that. And people definitely don't tell their sick relatives that they should fly back to Canada over something like that. Apparently the day after that, her sister flew down to help her pack up - and she had collapsed. I was really confused, hearing everything fifth-hand didn't help, but I still didn't know what 'sick' meant, it's a terribly vague word. I found out later that she had had surgery over the summer to remove a benign cyst from her stomch, and that once she fell it caused internal bleeding/she fell because of the internal bleeding? So of course, they rushed her to the ER and she was placed in the ICU and we found out on Thursday that she was having organ failure, and they didn't expect her to last the night. So I had some warning, but not much. And on top of that, I had an exam the next day, and another incredibly stressful one the following Tuesday. She died Friday, around noon, after my exam, but my dad didn't tell me until around five o'clock (coincidentally, right before I was about to leave for work). I went to work in shock. It didn't go terribly well, but that's a story I probably should keep to myself...
Funerals have always made me uncomfortable - especially when there's an open casket. Those freak me out so much, I never go near them. When my great-aunt died, I was pretty young, so I just stood with my cousin the whole time and talked quietly. At my grandma's visitations, I felt really sad but couldn't bring myself to cry, even though everyone else was. I pretty much sat in a corner by myself, ignoring and being ignored by everyone. I remember my sisters were playing and acting like everything was fine, and I remember being irritated with them for that. Looking back now, I realize they were only about 7 at the time, so they didn't have much of a grasp on what was happening. But at the time, it really bothered me; it almost seemed as though they were being insensitive or something. The next day, at the actual funeral, I was sobbing uncontrollably the entire time and couldn't make myself stop. Strange, given how dry my eyes had been the day prior, but I suppose it had finally hit me - I hadn't cried since a brief moment the day I found out about her dying.
My great-grandma's funeral was much the same as my great-aunt's had been six years earlier. There were no visitations beforehand, but I stell felt terribly awkward. To put it in perspective, I had been born when she was eighty-two, and while she was very healthy for someone her age (until the last few months), her memory was steadily growing worse through all my memories of her. She was a nice lady, and always listened with great interest whenever I told her something, but eventually she got to a point where she couldn't remember which of her 5 great-granddaughters I was, or pretty much anything anyone told her. She would try to tell us a story from her childhood, and then get into a debate with my grandma (her daughter) about the accuracy of the details. My mom and grandma were both crying at the funeral, but I never did. I think it was because they had better memories of her than I did.
My aunt's death was different. I didn't cry too much (except for a bit at work that first night) at the funeral; it came and went in bursts of tears, but it seemed I cried a lot less than my aunts or any of my cousins. I wrote my exam on schedule, and went to work (which I now regret). My sisters were pretty much indifferent - again, I felt irritation towards them, but again, I wondered why I wasn't more upset.
My aunt was a fascinating person. She played golf almost religiously, loved Broadway shows and cared more about her family than anyone else. She was full of jokes and hugs, but if someone stepped out of line, she didn't hesitate to tell them so (which sometimes pissed my sisters off). She was more a fan of plants than animals, and never married, but had a busy social life.
For a few years, between the time I was ten and fifteen, she took me out every December to go shopping for Christmas gifts. She decided she wanted to get me something I really wanted, so I would always pick one out and she would wrap it up for me. I would also use this opportunity to buy gifts for my parents and sisters. We always had fun, and considering the size of our family, it was one of the few times I got to spend with her one-on-one. She also used to take me and my cousins to see musicals in Toronto or locally, as birthday gifts. Over the years, I saw the Lion King with her and my cousins, Beauty and the Beast with her and my sisters, and Cats.
Everyone handles death differently, and my family is a prime example of this. My dad looks sad for a day or two, but for the most part behaves normally, and never cries. My mom tells anyone who will listen the lengthy story about how we have just had a death in the family, and my sisters (as I mentioned earlier) have no reaction whatsoever. Usually I find myself in disbelief about it for a few days, feeling sad at the most random times, and awkwardly thanking anyone who offers their condolences. It was partly so surprising because it was my aunt. Sure, she was 14 years older than my dad, but that's still not that old! Aunts and uncles don't die. Grandparents and great-relatives and goldfish die, but only if they're old. And even then, after a lengthy illness. Not so suddenly.
It made me a little frustrated with the world. It seems strange to think that soon her house will be sold and we'll need to go somewhere else for Christmas dinner, and that her new car, which she was so proud of, was kind of a waste (she only had it for about six months). And that now I only have four aunts (plus my mom's sister), and that I will soon only have mental images of her and her house (as well as a few actual photos). And I don't even think she found out about me getting accepted to my favourite university, because I got that letter a few days after Christmas, and I told everyone else at New Year's, at which point she was already in Florida.
I miss her. But I hope she's proud of me. And I know my grandma and grandpa are now reunited with their oldest daughter, and she can tell them 'hello' from the rest of us.
No comments:
Post a Comment