Watching down the long road...
Last night, I had a phone call from my Aunt L. L. is my mother's younger sister, born I think seven years later than my mother.
My mother died in 1993. She had been in somewhat poor health but her death was sudden and unexpected.
I'm pretty sure my Aunt L. was thinking of her because my mother's birthday was this past week. But what L. had to say completely knocked me back...
I have known for some time that Aunt L. was sort of slipping mentally; the sort of thing we all expect to see in our aging loved ones. You know, repeating the same stories over and over, mixing up the names of various relatives, embroidering where you can't quite recall.
She called me last night because she had been talking with one of her brothers and had mentioned something about my mother, and they had to tell her that my mother was dead. So, she called me to see if that was really true. She sounded so shocked that it was, and that she could not remember it happening.
I wanted to cry but I was too shocked for that myself. To not remember, to not know of any longer, the death of your only sister?
How hard must this be, to go through life having to meet all the things from your past again and again, in unbelievable bits and pieces? I'm watching this slow pace down that long road from a distance. I feel so much for her son, who is in the same town and sees her nearly every day.
Please, don't let me live if I can't remember. Please.
My mother died in 1993. She had been in somewhat poor health but her death was sudden and unexpected.
I'm pretty sure my Aunt L. was thinking of her because my mother's birthday was this past week. But what L. had to say completely knocked me back...
I have known for some time that Aunt L. was sort of slipping mentally; the sort of thing we all expect to see in our aging loved ones. You know, repeating the same stories over and over, mixing up the names of various relatives, embroidering where you can't quite recall.
She called me last night because she had been talking with one of her brothers and had mentioned something about my mother, and they had to tell her that my mother was dead. So, she called me to see if that was really true. She sounded so shocked that it was, and that she could not remember it happening.
I wanted to cry but I was too shocked for that myself. To not remember, to not know of any longer, the death of your only sister?
How hard must this be, to go through life having to meet all the things from your past again and again, in unbelievable bits and pieces? I'm watching this slow pace down that long road from a distance. I feel so much for her son, who is in the same town and sees her nearly every day.
Please, don't let me live if I can't remember. Please.