So that's what it looks like when someone gets the call that their sister passed away. I walked out of the bathroom and saw Dad get the call. "Oh, no," in a tone I've rarely heard him use. He's not been great himself and I'm sure he's got a lot of processing to do. Once he was done with the call, I let him know I was sorry to hear and that I love him. His sister, my aunt, was very sick for several years. Every time we'd visit her, I'd think about that visit being our last one.
Well, that last one was the last one. I will miss you dearly, Aunt Mary.
I will never forget when the brain cancer first took hold of you and you lost yourself. You went from being laid back to an uptight religious zealot. You would lock every loved one on the phone for hours if they let you, you talking about how good God is. When I was laid off from my job, you called me to ask that I deliver pizzas to the cancer center that treated you. I drove all the way to Connellsville to deliver pizzas to Greensburg. The nurses were confused; Mary had been so rambling that they could not believe she would carry through with the pizzas she promised them.
Once you got through treatments, things returned to normal for a year or so. Those visits were too short and I wish now more than ever that I could sit at the table, miserable from smoke in the house.
I'm not painting a nice light here but I assure anyone reading this, she was one of the sweetest, most hospitable, kindest souls I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. And I had the pleasure to call her family.
Time is cruel and I no longer want to participate.