The Bittersweet Vacation

Today is the last day of our annual beach vacation. It’s a once-per-year tradition that I cherish. My extended family is a riot and we don’t spend enough time together.

The reason it’s been a bittersweet vacation is because my mom’s sister—my sweet Aunt Dot—passed away during the week. Mom would not leave Aunt Dot’s side so she didn’t start the vacation with us, which seemed odd. Our annual family congregation is the high-water mark of Mom’s year; she says she’s never happier than when all her chickens are under one roof.

It was weird, being at the beach trying to have fun while Aunt Dot was suffering and Mom was with her. Yet Mom insisted we continue with the annual pilgrimage. She insisted we come to the beach and make merry. She didn’t want to let anyone down, especially her grand-kids, so we came without her.

After 2 days, Aunt Dot died. My brother, my sister and I made the car ride from the beach to her funeral. Anticipating this possibility, we had tucked funeral clothes into our bags, right next to our bathing suits and beach towels.

The drive to the funeral is the only time I can remember being alone with my siblings, just the 3 of us, as adults. It was a special time, which added to the complexity of contradicting emotions.

Once we arrived at Aunt Dot and Uncle Jerry’s house, we were greeted by distant relatives that we only see at weddings and funerals. I know that’s fairly typical of big families but it would be nice to see them more often.

After the funeral, visitation and family gathering, the sibs and I made a late night road trip back to the beach. Mom and Dad joined us the next day, so by Wednesday we were all together.

I’m waxing nostalgic because that’s how I feel. It was a wonderful and sad and hilarious and frenetic and heartwarming and heartbreaking week.

We’re already planning next year.   

Waiting on Death, Celebrating Life

My instincts tell me not to write this. I don't want to be maudlin nor do I want to appear insensitive but we are waiting on death. My Aunt Dot is dying; her transition will be any day now. She has squared off with the monster for the last time, and now she is going to a place where there is no indignity or pain. 

She has buried two of her own children. Now it is her turn. 

In one of our many frank discussions, I asked Aunt Dot if she thought she would see her kids or my grandparents (her parents) when she died. She said she's not sure but she hopes so. We speculated about that possibility, and what the Bible says about dying. We talked about God and Heaven. She told me that if she does get to see and recognize people up there, she'll find a way to let me know. She said she would send me a sign and I would know what it was about.    

The spunk this resilient lady displayed throughout her life is inspirational. Her matter-of-fact way of living, and now dying, is uniquely Aunt Dot.

Joyously, our family got together to celebrate her 80^th birthday recently. 

I will not be able to write about her again, not anytime soon. My heart is heavy. Waiting on death is a terrible thing. Instead, we will celebrate her life--now and always.

Aunt Dot recently became a great-grandmother. The circle of life.

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This post is in participation with the Group Blogging Experience, and this week’s prompt is instinct. This is the best I could do under the circumstances. If you want to blog with us, go to the GBE2 Facebook page and request to join the group. Everyone is welcome.

Aunt Dot, the Warrior

My sweet Aunt Dot turned 80 years old yesterday. The entire family congregated for her birthday. See, this will probably be Aunt Dot's last birthday. She was recently diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer. It's also in her spine, ribs and even a spot on her liver.

Aunt Dot knew she had cancer; she claims to know what cancer feels like. If anybody would know what cancer feels like, it would be Aunt Dot. In her 80 years, she has successfully battled the dreadful disease 3 other times. This is her 4th time in the ring with this monster.

Every time cancer came knocking, it wore a new disguise. First it came in the form of breast cancer.  A radical double mastectomy is hard on a 20-something gal but she's a fighter and came out on top. Cancer free for over 10 years, the insidious beast came slinking back in the form of throat cancer. Evil but curable,  Aunt Dot won. Many years later, uterine cancer came for a visit. It didn't stay around long. Aunt Dot, the 95 pound warrior, fought back hard.

Cancer free for over 15 years, her life took on a slow and satisfied pace. Things were good. And now, here it is again. It makes me sad that cancer is going to be what gets Aunt Dot. It seems cruelly unfair.

This is what sweet, brave Aunt Dot says about it:

I'm not afraid to die. I've had a long and happy life. How long do you expect me to live, Langley? If it's not cancer, it'll be something else. Something else soon. Everybody is going to die and I'm not afraid. I just don't want to hurt. Now let's have some fun.

So really, cancer is not winning. Aunt Dot is the ultimate winner. Her final days will be filled with love, family and friends.

Her positive outlook and plucky attitude make an indelible impression on everyone she knows. She is an inspiration. Yes, Aunt Dot will live on in our hearts and our memories for as long as we breathe.