so... i woke up today, and my immediate self-flagellating revelation was: "no one is ever coming back. you're never going to see them ever again."
my aunt... passed away from cancer. i keep telling myself it didn't happen. nothing is changed outside of my small bedroom.
in my dreams, auntie is there. sometimes everything is as normal—there is no cancer. there never was any cancer. we're all together, proceeding as usual. other times, her passing is a part of the narrative—we all rejoice that she's back, with the explanation that they found a life-extending cure at the last minute.
it's been a few months over 3 years now, and papa is still in my dreams. sometimes as usual—sometimes miraculously coming back. sometimes he's still sick, but he's not in danger of death. there's always some cure they found for him—the liver transplant went as expected.
what can i say about the unique pain of losing beef. i don't care if it seems like i'm saying that my cat was more important than my human family—i'm not. but beef was unique. auntie and papa were parental figures to me. beef was- she was me. i was her. i took care of her. she was like my child, and my best friend. my little soul in a fluffy body. for 15 years.
and she's still there. in my dreams. sometimes i talk to her pictures, even when awake.
i'll never see any of them again.
and i carry such guilt in my mishandling. in my poor judgement.
i didn't go see papa at the hospital. i only talked to him on the phone. it was during covid, and i just assumed he would be coming back home any day now. until he didn't. nobody was expecting him to pass. he wasn't jaundiced. i've seen what near-death liver failure looks like. he didn't look anything like it... and i just- i assumed he would be okay.
then he got approved for a transplant. he was supposed to come home all better. but he ruptured an internal bleed during the air lift. and he didn't come back home ever again.
two months ago, auntie asked me to move in with her, because her kids were not helping her around the house or helping with her illness. i told her i would.
but i thought i had time.
back then, she still sounded okay. she pretended everything was normal. and so did everyone...
and then my grandma needed surgery on her neck.
my grandma missed her surgery and needed it rescheduled.
my grandma got sick after her surgery.
my grandma's sickness turned out to be covid, and then i caught it, too.
then i couldn't go at all.
and then it was too late.
i had been talking to auntie for check-ins every week. i suspected something was wrong when i stopped hearing from her after my grandma's surgery. no more answered calls or texts. i had to ask what was going on through my cousin.
when i was in the hospital from covid, my mom was on the phone with my cousin. i could barely understand what was being said... but i knew it was auntie. i knew something bad was coming.
a couple days later, i got the call from my cousin.
since then, i've tried to pretend it didn't happen. pretend everything is normal. there's still plans for auntie to take us all to lake chelan this summer, remember? just like always.
but my dreams keep reminding me. i can't ignore the looming shadow of truth. everything is changing. everyone is leaving. no- they've already left.
where are all these important people going? why are they leaving us? my oldest cousin is the same age as me, my middle cousin is 24, and my youngest cousin is 19. how is it right in this world that their mother is gone?
if you knew my auntie, you'd know how fucking wrong the idea of her being taken by cancer is. she's such a badass—the biggest, boldest personality ever. she always looked bougie and way younger than her age, and her energy reflected it. she was always down for fun.
what is this family without her? she was the glue.
we were supposed to go to lake chelan. we were supposed to go golfing in malaga. just like always.
we're never going again... are we?
why is this happening...?
