i have a nearly 94 year old grama and i certainly thought she would be next. we got the terrible news yesterday that the stomach blockage that brought my aunt to the hospital last week is cancer, most likely a recurrence of cervical cancer. hundreds of tiny massess are all over her stomach and intestines. it’s not operable, we’re waiting for a biopsy to see how treatable it might be, but it’s not looking hopeful. she’s 58. she’s like my second mom.
i don’t like goodbyes. i try to avoid them. i outrun them whenever possible. i cried every day for a week over leaving my last job, saying goodbyes little by little to my coworkers at the restaurant. the thought of a long goodbye makes me want to vomit.
yesterday sitting with my aunt when she got the news, all the thoughts that go through my mind… be strong. fuck strong, be real. cry. it’s ok. be there for her. be present myself. cry uncontrollably. swollen eyes and face. cry some more. stop crying. laugh. make a joke. laugh together. cry together. call my mom. watch her tell her kids. cry some more. listen to her make plans. wonder what’s going to happen. why is this happening? i hate this. why her? what am i going to do? what’s going to happen to our family? i’m going to lose grama, too. i’m the only one left who’s gonna take care of business. how am i going to watch her die? listen to her apologize for leaving us. watch her cry. cry some more. i fucking hate this. if i ever get married and have kids, they’re not gonna know auntie barb. my cousins are losing both their parents before mid twenties, before marriage, before kids.
i’m very sensitive sometimes to the passage of time, watching life. i feel it so deeply sometimes, just observing it. sometimes it’s lovely. and sometimes it just fucking blows.