Death Becomes Her.

I wish I could tell a funny story about people living forever and their everlasting beauty. Unfortunately this is not that kind of story. On the contrary I want to talk, again about death and loss and the sorrow and despair that comes with it.

On the 7th of August, just before I started my shift at work, my dad send us a message in the family WhatsApp group telling us our aunt just died. She had been sick and in hospital for some weeks now, reason why my parents travelled to see her, fearing the worst. It happened. She didn’t make it, she didn’t survive. Despite being recovering, my parents even said goodbye to her as they were due to come back the next day. She was scheduled for some stomach surgery to help her get better. She died. She had been through some bad stuff lately at the hospital and she told her sister she wouldn’t go back there, she’d rather die. Now she is in peace.

In a world where we can watch a funeral on videoconferencing, where we seem closer to each other, are we really? How is that death still shakes us to the core? When will we learn how precious every day is?

I had to sit on a chair and keep on breathing. I didn’t know what to do. I was about to start my shift but I could barely breathe, I wondered if I should go home, or if the show must go on, and how would I make it through the day. I told my partner, the echoes of that awful day of February when I learned about the death of my sister were still too loud. (The Day The Music Died). Again he asked me if I wanted him to come. I declined, first, then no, I needed to see him and feel that I was not alone. Nevertheless I had to finish my shift. Somehow. I just blocked any feeling, any memory, anything. I had to go on.

It would not be the first time I had to keep moving, I had to keep up. The world doesn’t stop spinning because we lost someone. It keeps its journey through space, but it doesn’t mean we have to. It felt odd to have to smile to customers, to laugh at their jokes while something inside me was numb. I still feel like that. If I can allow myself to use that verb, because the truth is I don’t know how I feel.

All this reminds me of how I felt when losing my sister. The difference is this death was a bit more expected, she was sick, she was fighting cancer but she could not make it. My sister died unexpectedly. Still I couldn’t say goodbye to either of them.

My colleagues asked me how I was and about my aunt. I told them some memories, but the most of them I told to my partner, because with him I can be myself, even when I am lost. I don’t know how to feel and most of the time I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to think about how she was always with me when I was a kid, how she told me about animals, of the drawings of mermaids. I don’t want to remember the stories about when I was born, when she used to babysit me. I don’t want to remember because memories come with pain.

Pain. It never goes. I thought I had moved on from my sister’s death, but obviously I haven’t. I don’t want to hurt anymore, or again. So I shut off everything I can. I know it is not a good idea, but I am scared of feeling that massive sorrow coming back and drowning me again. I am afraid it will take me back again and pull me down to the ghastly depths where it dwells.

I thought I had moved on. I thought I was in a happy place. In a safe place. I was wrong. The hollow left by my sister is still there, and I can feel it. It was just dormant, waiting for the appropriate occasion to come back and try to get me again. It never went very far. Now that I have to face the death of one of my beloved relatives I realise I haven’t improved. I feel I was/am in denial.

Just talking about it with my godmother, sometimes she reminds me of the fairy godmother from the tales because she has such power and magic coming from her, she makes people feel special, she said to me how important it is to be able to say goodbye to our lost relatives, there AR emany ways to do it, even if we haven’t been able to do it when we had the chance. She is right.

My aunt was very special. She loved animals beyond her own possibilities, she was very clever and a person you enjoyed talking to. She knew about lots of topics and her conversations were always interesting. No wonder why as a child I had such good times with her. She used to trigger my curiosity for nature and science, for books. She never made me feel like a nerd whilst the world was shouting that word to me. What makes me even more sad is how little we used to speak lately. I keep her conversations on my phone just as a reminder of her interest in my life. She read this blog, and she told me how proud of me she was, as a professional in psychology, she thought it was very good for me to express my feelings. I still remember her words, they are written and kept safe with all the other good things she told me. She encouraged me to keep writing and to let her know when new posts were uploaded.

Her sense of humour was unique and clever. We used to laugh a lot with her, she could twist and use word just to make us laugh. Somehow I inherited part of it, I grew up with her as one of my baby sitters, and I am proud to say I did. She never had kids, it was not in her, I never will know why but she was always kind to me. I don’t think I can find any moment in time when she was upset or mad at me for anything. Maybe I was lucky, or maybe she saw something in me that she could relate, and vice versa. I owe her so much, she will never know.

I was afraid if I let the memories flow, it would be too much pain. It is. As I write these words tears pour out of my eyes and I can barely see what I am writing, but it also feels necessary to let her/all go. I never had the chance with my sister. I am scared of crying for her loss. She was like half of me. She is gone now. The void she left is still here. I remember now, when my sister died, I was alone, everyone gathered and went to France, but I didn’t, I stayed, alone. She called me and she said we both stayed alone, it is harder but we are the same, the rest of the family were busy but we had to stay behind. It is a hard thing to do but we had to. She also said to me love is the only thing that matters, always remember that. She was heartbroken as I was but we had to be stronger. We had so much in common.

My aunt is also gone now, and even if with time we all drifted away, we did keep some contact. Through phone and through WhatsApp. Sometimes we could visit each other but not as often as it used to be. Unfortunately the last words I told her were never delivered. She never read them. Maybe, somehow, these few will. I wish she could read this last entry, I wish I could tell her there is a new one talking about how important she has been in my life and how much I love her. I wish so many things I can’t even say.

Nunca te he dicho lo importante que has sido en mi vida, lo orgulloso que estoy de haber sido tu sobrino y el ejemplo tan grande que has sido. Ahora me doy cuenta de lo mucho que nos hemos parecido y lo mucho que he aprendido de ti. Sólo lamento no haber podido decirte una última vez lo mucho que te quiero y lo agradecido que estoy de que hayas estado en mi vida. Te quiero, hoy y para siempre. Allá donde estés, siempre te querré. Hasta que nos volvamos a encontrar tía. Hasta siempre.

Agosto / August 2022