one year ago, my favorite person in the whole world died. Some sort of dormant condition, a blood clot in her brain, had a stroke and didn’t wake up. They held her in the hospital while my mother flew out to California.
she was the eldest child of four daughters. She was a teacher. She didn’t have kids, but she treated her nieces and nephews like her own. Her favorite princess was Snow White, and just a year prior her seventh kid was born. I was lucky number three out of the seven cousins. Just like my mom. Three out of the four sisters.
I spent most of last summer alone, texting someone who looked the other way and waiting for hours for responses. I called it love when I should have been calling it loneliness. She texted my cousins and I every morning. Buenos dias, nine am sharp, six am for her. Knowing I won’t be getting those text felt worse as I waited for texts that wouldn’t come from everyone I knew.
my brother and I flew out a couple days later when my mother told us she wouldn’t survive. My mom texted me. Wait until your brother gets home. I have to talk to you. My brother wouldn’t get home for another nine hours. I was alone the entire time. Radio silence on all sides. I knew what was coming but I still shut down.
When we visited California, I stayed with her. Just me and her in her apartment. It was a given. Sometimes the four “bigs” had sleepovers too. Tradition. The original four cousins. We spent a lot of time together last July. Before they pulled the plug they let the four of us spend a few last hours with her. Huddled around her hospital bed, long stretches of silence and any stupid story we’ve already told a million times over.
last summer I stayed with the second oldest. Number two, like my brother. She stepped up to being the oldest well. It still felt like I was sleeping on a stranger’s couch.
I overheard a lot of stuff I wasn’t supposed to hear. That’s what happens when you lose the glue keeping the family together. My grandmother telling my mom they can’t have the funeral in their hometown because ICE was just around the corner. That felt like a punch in the gut. Not being able to celebrate the life of your eldest daughter.
They ended up having a small memorial at her and her partner’s favorite spot on the beach. Small, even though close family is about fourteen people. I wasn’t able to count how many people were there, between the amount of strangers who tried to hug me, and the people in and out of her classroom saying I’m Sorry I Loved Her Too It Shouldn’t Have Happened. Her partner made me a make a few promises and gave me the key to her apartment before I left. He understood. I accepted his hugs, but he never said he was sorry. I hope he’s doing okay. He’s still invited over for dinner, which I’m grateful for.
she never got to see my eighteenth birthday. She flew out barely a few days after my eldest cousin’s college graduation to see my highschool graduation. She made it a point to go to all of them. She won’t see four’s. I wish she could had at least seen his. I never got to take her on a tour of campus, take her to a football game. She was going to help me move into my first dorm. I was going to show her my campus. I wanted to show her my school. She didn’t even get to see me turn eighteen. I didn’t get to go to her funeral.
it’s been a year. I’m still lonely, still waiting on texts that will never come. They’re finally cleaning out her apartment, asking me if I want her belongings. She left everything to the four of us. One two three four, just like her and her sisters. I wish they’d stop asking. I miss her. Everyone does.
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