She’s gone. No more breath, no more smile, that peaceful look is all that remains. She who raised a town, she who knew no enemy, my Aunt. There was a pony once. This mean evil beasty that needed ‘breaking’. Once that was done he was fun to ride, as long as the adults put you on it.
There were kids. Always. She raised her 7 children, then she’d raise countless nieces/nephews, grands, great grands. She loved people, and never ever was her door closed no matter the time of night.
Once when I was watching my sister, Catherine, she ran into the living room holding her hand. Blood gushed from her cupped hands, rushing down her arm and dropping to the floor.
“What did you do?!” I screamed at the 8 year old curly haired kid.
“I cut myself?”
“With what a butcher knife?” I rushed over to her wrapped her hand in paper towel and rushed her down the road.
My aunt took one look at her hand with the V shaped cut, and knew that she’d cut it with scissors, and that it was going to hurt a lot as it healed, but that it didn’t need stitches. She cleaned it, and calmed down my kid sister.
I don’t know how many times in my life I had sat on the porch, or at the house with my aunt just talking, smiling, laughing. But now she’s gone.
Her happy home now just a house filled with memories. I don’t know how to feel about that.
This void has taken its place inside me. The woman who knew no stranger, who exuded the best in humanity is gone.
Life is fleeting, no matter how young or old you are when you go, someone wants more time with you.
One more day. Just five more minutes. One more smile. But that would never be enough, we’d keep begging and pleading for that one more day, five more minutes, one more smile.
I’ll post something funny later,