When someone you love dies a lot of
things you might think matter, don’t. Suddenly, material items, status, worry
about things beyond your control, whining and complaining, grudges, and a bunch
of other senseless things become insignificant. Last weekend my aunt passed
away. When I got the news from my mother, I was surprisingly calm and perhaps a
bit numb (especially because during the weeks leading to her passing, I’d been coping
by praying and throwing myself into my work and writing.) But the reality was she was no longer here. And I have a combination of feelings about this
loss -- sadness, anger, disappointment, hurt, and acceptance. I’m saddest for
her husband and kids because now, her husband is going to be without his wife
and my cousins are going to be without their mother, and that reality breaks my
heart the most. I’m also sad for my own mother (who was her sister) my aunt,
uncles, and extended family and friends that knew her, because this wasn't something any of us saw coming. This past summer and fall my aunt seemed
just fine – happy and full of life just like she always was, so when I learned
she got a bad diagnoses, I had unwavering faith she’d pull through. Even
when doctors were saying things weren’t looking good, my mindset was, she’ll have a powerful testimony when she
recovers from this. Everything's going to be okay. Myself and others believed
God for the best, only to get blindsided.
Sometimes life will hand you
something unexpected. With the exception of some close friends and family, I never publicly shared this, but last spring my father, brother, and I had a scare
when we thought we were going to lose my mother. She ended up being okay, but I
thought she going to die. And watching a bunch of EMTs come into our home, and
riding in the front seat of an ambulance with my mother in the back seat, not
knowing what was going to happen next was a living nightmare. We were relieved
she was okay, but having the scare was eye opening. Now, discussing things like
living wills, life insurance policies, burial plots, and home going services
are conversations my father and I have talked about together. And while these
kinds of things can be uncomfortable to discuss, they’re necessary. Because
death is a part of life. There’s no denying that. Being as prepared and knowledgeable
as you can be is important.
I’m really going to miss my aunt.
I’m going to miss her laughs, smile, hugs, cooking, warmth, personality, and
humor – just to name a handful of things. Not only was she my aunt, but she was
my godmother, and my parents couldn’t have chosen a better person. I’m grateful
that shortly before she passed, she was able to say what she wanted to say to
me. I know how much she loved me and I will love her forever. When I went to
see her in the hospital, I had a moment of clarity I never knew I’d get about
life, and was reminded of how short life is, what’s important vs. what’s not,
and to live intentionally. My aunt was one of the most loving, giving, and
sincere people I’ve ever known and while I miss her, it’s going to be an honor
celebrating her life.