So, my Aunt Shirley is out of the hospital, and resting uncomfortably as cancer eats her liver. Actually, she's probably comfortable in spirit, at least, as a faithful Pentecostal for many years. Although I lack faith, I hope that when I die I get to see her, and mom, and aunt Marian and Vodie, again.
It looks like I won't get to see Aunt Shirley before her illness finishes her. I have made a feeble attempt. Even I will admit it's a token. Frankly, just between you and I, I don't want to see her. I want to remember Aunt Chubbie from before, in River Hebert, when she always had perfect pink lipstick and smelled like perfume and we'd go to her house and I'd read the Story Girl upstairs. Or before, when she lived in the house in Parrsboro with the narrow stairs off the kitchen.
I am a coward. The last time I saw her it felt kind of like a knife to see mom's face, looking older but alive, still alive... but not mom. I don't know if I could stand it. I chickened out of a last visit to Dad... I know he's forgiven me, it's ok. I hope he has. I didn't have the option with mom, and that's just as well.
So while Billy races down from Ontario, with god at his right hand, the faithless little baby of the family hides behind poverty and lack of transit.
And you wonder why the universe shows you no love?
3 comments:
When my aunt Tina was dying of Cancer I didn't want to see her. Maybe that seems selfish, but I wanted to remember her they way she had been. Everyone has their reasons.
The universe loves you.
The universe very rarely cuddles me at night. Sigh.
Post a Comment