Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday

One of my aunt's necklaces that my uncle let my momma pick out for me. 

Aunt Linda, I Love You (Part II)

We got back home on the March 17th. My mom and grandmother had stayed behind, and she called on Monday to tell us that my aunt had done really well on Sunday night, and seemed to have more energy throughout the day. She said my aunt was being "smart" with my uncle, and it was good to see her little attitude come back out. This was a good sign. If she got her strength back, and if she was cleared to fly our family was considering taking her to Mexico for a medical trial that would accept her. They took on aggressive cancers and had doctors that were willing to try alternative treatments. I had hoped that we'd be able to give this place a shot once she started feeling better. It was a last resort, but one that everyone was willing to pitch in for. Now all we had to do was pray, and hope that she would gain some strength back in order to make that journey.

Sadly, on Monday night things took a turn and deteriorated rather quickly. On Tuesday night, surrounded by family and with her mother at her side --holding her hand--, my aunt passed away. She was 53. We had just gotten home from the gym when my mother called to tell me the news. I stood in the kitchen with tears in my eyes, and a lump in my throat. "Okay. Give my uncle and cousins some hugs from us. Tell them we love them." And as I hung up the phone I grasped the kitchen counter and began to sob. This was hard, y'all. This was unfair. My aunt had so much more life in her, and I couldn't believe she was gone. Just like that. I mean, I knew it was a possibility. I knew that when I kissed her goodbye that one Saturday morning, that that day could be the last time I would see her alive. But I didn't think it would be within days. Hours. I thought we had more time. Even if just a month. That evening as I stood in my kitchen crying I was simultaneously trying to remember every detail of our time together. Every word she said, every smile, every hug, and then I started looking through all of the previous text messages. Saving every picture, and every scripture she sent. Rereading all of the advice that she had given me. I never want to forget any of it. I never want to forget her.

My aunt was an amazing woman. She always smiled, and she loved fiercely. She valued family over everything. She was one of the few people I felt like I could really talk to about anything, and everything under the sun. She was kind, and giving. There was one weekend a few years ago when she came down for a visit, and I was having a pretty hard time financially. There were doctor visits that had to be paid for, medications that needed to be paid for, and then to top it off not only was I late on the gas bill but my car was on the fritz too. I had showed up to my parents house needing to borrow some quarters because my dryer had just broken, and I needed to go to the laundromat before the mildew smell set in. I remember I had a little over $50 in my account that morning, and it needed to last me until I got paid the following week. I remember trying to do the best that I could that weekend, and I spent it over at my parent's house in order to make sure Emery had three meals. Then, before my aunt left back to Georgia that Sunday she pulled me in for a hug, kissed my cheek, and handed me some money. "Mija, find a decent used washer. There's enough money in there for that, and to pay your bill." I argued that I would be fine, and for her to use the money for something else. She just grabbed me by my shoulders, pulled me in for a hug, smiled at me, and then told me to take the money or she'd make my mom deposit it into my account. There was no arguing with this woman when she had her mind set on something. That was just the kind of person she was. Protective of those she loved. She knew Jesus, and God in a way that not many do. And even in her last days she prayed, and worshiped. 

Once we had gotten back home after this last visit I had started to do some research on gallbladder cancer. And to be honest, it was all a bit discouraging. It was maddening too. How the hell do we not have more answers? More funding? More trials? Why are we not looking into alternative treatments? As I sat in my living room combing through link after link I learned that survival rates during the first round of treatment were low, and recurrence was extremely high. So, even if you beat it the first time, any additional years you lived were just gifts. Borrowed time. Maybe if I had known that before I would have visited more. I would have held her longer. I would have called as often as possible. Taken a leave of absence from work to spend a week helping her during treatment. But I didn't. I didn't know anything. After I closed my laptop I felt so stupid for not looking into this sooner. For thinking that my aunt was invincible. For taking the time we had for granted. Since I had just used some of my personal time at work the week before I wasn't in the position to ask for more time off. Then there was the issue of my daughter having to go back to school. So, after speaking with my parents I had to make the difficult decision of not attending the funeral. And this killed me. I face timed with my uncle, and cousins to let them know how much I wish I could be there. I told them I loved them and would help in any way that I could from afar. They let me know that they understood I couldn't just take off on such short notice, and only a day after getting back. My uncle told me that he was just grateful I got to see her one last time. 

A few days before the funeral I started looking for weekend flights. I thought that if I could find some last minute discounted red-eye flight there and back on the same day it would be worth it. Unfortunately, the flights available were too long due to layovers, and all out of my price range. When I told my mom that my last little bit of hope to make it there had been squashed she said that it was okay. That they would be there for us. And later that afternoon one of my aunts called to let me know that there would be a special link for us on their church website to watch the funeral from home. It was for family members that couldn't make it, but still wanted to take part in the services. So, even though I wasn't able to be there physically, I would still be able to see it. And that's exactly what we did. As we sat in a parking lot (a story for later) we watched the entire service. We prayed, and we sang along. My family did a wonderful job. It was a service worthy of my aunt. With her favorite verses, and songs. She would have loved it. It was beautiful, and I'm glad I was able to see it. Now that it's been several weeks I still haven't really grasped it. My mind hasn't entirely come to terms with the fact that she's not here anymore. One day it will. And I hope I don't take it too hard. Until then, I just smile when we all talk about her. I smile thinking that she's up there in Heaven dancing around to the beat of her own drum dressed in head to toe purple with a Dallas Cowboy's jersey underneath. You know, because you always have to be ready for football season. And when I think of her I hope we're making her proud. But most of all I hope that we're living life in the way that will allow us to see her again one day...in the next life. 

Until then, I love you Aunt Linda. You are my favorite. And you're missed something fierce down here. 

Aunt Linda, I Love You (Part I)

Back at the beginning of 2015 we were given some pretty devastating news about one of my aunts. My mom had called me one morning to tell me that my bright, bubbly, and wild spirited tia had gallbladder cancer. I had been sitting on this for awhile before I briefly wrote about it one day in a jumbled mess, and didn't really touch on it again. But I remember we were all a bit baffled due to the fact that she didn't have a gallbladder. It had been removed sometime before, and yet that's what she was diagnosed with. Stage IV. It was aggressive, rare, and very resistant to treatment. But they had caught it so they would be treating it just as aggressively. My aunt was a fighter, and I just knew that this was not going to keep her down. 

Soon after we received the news my aunt had surgery and started treatment. After a few months, we were granted our miracle: all scans were clear and the cancer was gone. The doctors were confused, and what once seemed like a death sentence was now a full-blown testament of God's work. Miracles really did happen! I was told that they would finish up her treatment to be on the safe side, and then after several months she'd have scans to make sure she was still stable. Y'all, this was the best news I had heard that year. And that year was a rough one. I remember feeling such relief, and happiness. When we saw her that summer I hugged her tightly. MY AUNT KICKED CANCER'S ASS, Y'ALL! 

I think we all believed that the worst part was over. That because of the clear scans, and the steady physical improvements she was making she was in the clear. We all went back to our normal day-to-day. If I had done any research back then I would have been more prepared, I think. I would have known that cancer didn't back down so easily. I would have known that the chances of recurrence were high. I would have known that this was just the beginning of her journey. But I didn't. So, at the beginning of the year when we were told it was back --and had been for awhile-- I was surprised, and honestly a bit shocked. "How the hell did it come back? What are the next steps?" My mom said that she'd start chemo immediately, and asked that we start praying for my aunt daily as the next course of treatment would be really rough. So we prayed. We sent group texts, and words of encouragement. Pictures of sunrises, sunsets, and anything out in nature because my aunt loved being outside. We don't live in the same state, and I feel like this was our way of contributing. Of helping, and being there for her. Some days we'd get long conversations, and pictures in return. Other days she'd let us know she was too tired to keep up with the banter. But she felt good. She felt strong. And that's all that mattered. 

Then we were given some bad news. About three weeks ago, we were told that the chemo was making my aunt really sick. Her cancer had not grown, but it had not shrunk either. However the chemo was not helping, and it was only weakening her body to the point of it not being able to fight off anything. She was dehydrated and rapidly losing weight. By the following week she was being rushed to the hospital, and when they sent her in to have more scans done they informed our family that her cancer had spread. We received the call that following day with the news, and that's when we decided to go visit our family in Georgia while Emery was off on Spring Break. We spent time with aunts and uncles. My daughter was able to spend time with one of her cousins. She ran around in the front yard, and we could hear their giggles through the screen door. I was able to see several of my cousins, and one night we sat out on the porch just talking for a while about our lives. We all laughed and cried. We prayed, and we sat with my aunt each day. I painted her nails one night, and we exchanged stories of when we were all little. I would enter the room every time by announcing, "Aunt Linda! It's you're favorite niece here!" And she would give me her great big smile while softly replying, "Yes, mija, my favorite niece." 

We spent two full days there. On the last day that we went over before hitting the road, everyone gathered around to pray, and sing a few songs with my aunt. We had our own little praise, and worship  session right there in her living room. She wore this huge smile on her face, and she was being sassy towards my uncle which we all loved seeing. She asked me to take some pictures of her with her brothers and sisters, and then asked me to send them to her. I sent them in that same group text, and before I left I gave her a hug and kiss. Emery hugged her and kissed her cheek before saying goodbye. before walking out of the house I sat on the chair next to her, and said, "Okay Aunt Linda, we have to head back to Texas now. I love you so much, and we'll see you when we come back for a visit in May. You better be ready to dance, okay?" She smiled at me, "Okay. I love you too mija. Y'all are coming back in May? I can't wait to see y'all then. Drive safe." I gave her a final kiss, and then we all loaded up in our vehicle to start the long 12-hour drive back home.