#basilla

Its one of those times where i miss my aunt. She died on a Sunday, it was early morning, i was woken up to my dad opening my door and telling me that she passed away. Prior, i was already up, i couldn’t fall back to sleep because i felt like something was.... off. I think i felt it – i think i felt her passing away because there was like an emptiness i felt.

For a few months, my aunt was my job. I had to wake up every morning, change her diaper because she no longer could take care of herself anymore, i would feed her and make sure she drank & took her medication. She couldn’t do it herself, i remember having to cut up her foods so she could take the small bites, i remember using a sippy cup and her drinking out the straw. I remember on her good days she would smile at me and constantly say “thank you”

When she started getting bad i remember trying to detach myself emotionally from her because i knew that it was going to be hard when she died. And it was. The pain – it was unbearable. The whole thing. I felt like i couldn’t breathe when she died.

My parents weren’t always around, but my parents are a totally different topic, there was a time when i lived with my aunt, and then my dad had a stroke and was in the hospital, it was just a big mess as a kid, i didn’t live with them for a time, my aunt though --- my aunt and i were on each others team, she raised me for a period at a time, so, it was hard, watching her deteriorate, it was hard taking care of her when she should have taken care of me.

I think she knew that the time would come, and she had thought that she was now ready, and that she had taught me all that she could when she was mentally stable.

Eventually, my aunt forgot about me. Thats what happens with Alzheimer’s; she would remember me in intervals, small memories would flash and she would remember me. and i remember being thankful for the times that she did and would feel this crushing feeling when she would forget about me again.

Her love for me was unconditional – and i loved ----- love ----- her unconditionally. I think about her all the time. The wound is still fresh, and it hurts. It hurts so fucking much when i think about her.

Sometimes, i feel her, sometimes i smell something that reminds me of her, sometimes i’ll say a phrase that she said, sometimes i’ll see her spirit inside of myself or inside someone else.

I cant get the image of her glassy eyes as she started to die, the way that her eyes used to shine so bright and then nothing.

She passed away in her sleep, and it seemed a fitting and innocent way to go. Its funny, how you grow up, you lose your innocence, and when you die, i feel like you get it back. Theres nothing you can do but accept the fact that youre going to die. I need to remember that shes not hurting anymore.

My aunt didn’t have the easiest life, but she lived. She lived. She lived. And that takes courage.

She tried to kill herself a few times, and i remember being there every time she tried. Itll still haunt me sometimes, but it wasn’t until i got older that i understand. Life is hard & its rough & its so incredibly unfair.

I wish i could have given my aunt more days to live – but i think near the end of her life, she was ready. She had done what she needed to do when she was here.

I wish i got to say goodbye. I didn’t get to say goodbye.

When her funeral came, i drank half a bottle of alcohol, and then i took some medication that made me drowsy. I remember the funeral though, it hurt so much that even in my drunken state i remembered. It was raining, people tried to hold on to me, hold my hand and look me in the eyes, i wouldn’t let them. I regret drinking.

Most of all, i regret not putting a flower in her casket. Instead, i quite literally ran to the bathroom so i could let myself break and not let anyone see me in the process. And when i got in the car, i passed out. My body was exhausted and i knew i needed to be strong.

I don’t cry, ever. I wish i cried more (though i am crying a little writing this) and um, and i think that if i cry then i’m weak even though i know that crying isn’t a sign of weakness. Im trying to be better with my emotions. Though i am bipolar2, my moods shift severely and im everywhere.

So, to my aunt, i hope that you are better. And happy. Above all happy. Im sorry that i didn’t put a flower at your casket. But i did at your grave when i came to visit by myself.

To end this, i will end with a quote: