Today would’ve been your 56th birthday. I wish I’d known how much I’d miss you. Being honest, I never thought about the possibility that you may not be here. I was so comfortable with the relationship we had; like two ships in constant passing. You there and I here. Always passing.
Even as we passed, you always made sure to remind me to believe in myself. You made a point of encouraging me even when it was you who needed it most. You’d say, “Kenn, you should go to culinary school.” and I would always return with, “I know auntie. O
The funny thing about death is that it causes you to acknowledge your own mortality. The cognitive dissonance of knowing that life and death exist in tandem is intense and I guess I always turned a blind eye to it. Until you left. I’ll never forget telling you goodbye for the last time, the last words I said to you. “I’m not gonna have to come to visit you in the hospital anymore Auntie.”
Needless to say, today has been rough. In more ways than one. I miss you. I love you. I’m fighting for you. As difficult as today felt, I got through it with subtle reminders of who I am and who you knew me to be. I remembered the purple flowers we had at home after you passed and how alive I realized I am. I remembered my relationships and how much I valued them. Family. All of the things you held dear are here in celebration of you.
Auntie Pam, today is your birthday. I hope heaven is decorated with purple flowers, balloons, and a cake just for you. Enjoy your freedom and keep us close. You no longer have to suffer or endure pain. I love you more than I ever let you know.
Happy birthday Auntie. I love you.