Disbelief

Two weeks ago, I woke up to the news that my aunt Al had transitioned. I am still having a hard time believing it.

My aunt had not been feeling like herself but when I went to see her on Sunday, August 13th, she got up to spend time with me and when I said that she didn't have to entertain me, she shrugged it off until my cousin arrived then went back to bed.

Had I known that August 13th would have been my last time seeing my aunt, wow, I would have done things differently. I remember listening to this episode of The Moth and this man said something like he leaves everything on the table because you never know if you'll see someone again. 

Of course, there is no such thing as a perfect ending but I have regrets. I am very glad, though, that my aunt did not die while I was overseas. Being away would have been a hard pill to swallow. As it is, I missed my cousin's text and multiple calls alerting me that several family members were at the hospital. I regret not being there for my cousin but I know that I can be present for her now. 

When I first heard the news, I was like I'm done but of course you cannot be done with life unless you take matters into your own hands or it is, in fact, your time to go. I kept thinking of a tape that I listened to by Charles Swindoll -- long time ago. He said a lot of things about attitude and he also said You cannot change that march toward death.

My aunt was 80 and that was her goal age. She had said that she didn't want to live to 100 because she was having a hard enough time doing 80. She didn't suffer and, for that, we are grateful. I am also grateful that her daughter and nephew, who was like a son to my aunt, were able to be with her and attend to her during the final moments of her life. 

I am doing my best to remain in a space of gratitude and I am also doing my best to be as supportive as possible for my cousin right now... 

My aunt was the last of my father's siblings, a sobering fact.

I find myself getting emotional in my aunt's house since there is no silence like the silence of a house after someone has died but I also find myself getting emotional on the way to work, I think, because I'm not ready for life to be business as usual.

At least, as a refugee pointed out to me, I got to see my aunt on a regular basis.

Stuff that does console me? My cousin told me that my aunt looked forward to my visits and that they meant a lot to her.

While we were planning the service, my mind wandered and thought about who invented funerals etc. There are obvious reasons -- to honor that person's life and to be surrounded by support and, oh yeah, closure because I'm still in disbelief even though:

1). I saw my cousin sign the authorization for embalming.

2). I've seen the body.

3). We've had the funeral.

4).   Been to the graveyard...

But I still want to do the "Florida Evans" in Good Times -- DamnDamnDamn. There are no do-overs and I don't get to see my aunt again.

"I came to see what he'd become, or always was—the father who will never cease to be alive in me." —from "I Wanted to Share My Father's World" by Jimmy Carter  #mondaymotivation  Thirty-nine years ago, when the 39th president of the United States was in office, my dad wrote on his list of life goals, "Talk with the President." I wonder how he'd feel knowing his newborn baby that year did that yesterday. President Jimmy Carter was 54 years old when my dad made that goal, the same age my dad was when he was killed. Yesterday, when I told him why I was meeting him, he said, "Very good." Then he shook my hand and said, "Come back down and see us again." Just before I met him, he said, "Sorry to keep you waiting." Thirty-nine years is a long time to wait, and I wish my dad could have checked off this one himself. Luckily he's still alive in me.

A post shared by My Father's List (@myfatherslist) on Aug 28, 2017 at 9:51am PDT