How We Die

[Akanari]

When we haven't even stopped growing yet.

This isn't really a post about me, nor do I expect pity. This is mostly about the disintegration of a family, and basically me wanting to tell someone about my family. I probably won't reply to this topic, and you don't even have to read it all the way, but it's here if you want to listen. It's not terribly interesting, and I don't have any childhood traumas or miracles, but it's...different. It's a story. And it may seem rather morbid, but it's me being honest. But believe me, I haven't forgotten the lights in my life. The rambling will start (and mostly center) in Spain.

My godmother died this morning. She was technically my Great Aunt, and her name was Teresa. Tia (Aunt) Teresa was married to my godfather, Tio (Uncle) Miguel. They owned a small farm outside the town where most of my family on my mother's side lives. People didn't move around much in Spain until modern times. This little farm...had cats. Lots and lots of cats. Tia Teresa hadn't really liked cats all that much, but milk was still left out for them. She wore glasses. She had large, strong ankles and a Roman nose. The house my family owns in the town is right next to hers, and whenever she wanted to talk, she would bang on the wall. We would then come out and talk and she'd probably end up giving us squash, zucchini, tomatoes, or some kind of fruit.

I have to talk in past tense about her. It's very odd. She had a stroke last week which they didn't know about until Saturday when they took her into the city. It was very sudden and I found out from my friend's mother when she told me she was sorry for my loss. The mother thought I knew already.

I have another Great Aunt who died a little over a year ago. She died of a heart attack. Nudy...Tia Nudy. She liked to give me strawberry yogurt and would tell me stories of her childhood sweethearts. Tia Nudy lived in a nearby city with her husband, Tio Paco. She had long, long black hair. Sometimes long hair looks odd on older women, but she was beautiful. Her two (middle-aged) sons live with her husband now. He'll be alright.

Tia Teresa's husband won't be. He injured his leg many years ago in a tractor accident and has had a heavy limp since. There's little possibility of him being self-sufficient, so he will most likely have to move in with a different member of the family. He doesn't have much money like my grandfather, so he can't move into a nursing home.

Yes, my grandfather is in a nursing home in Spain. My grandmother died a couple years ago from a brain tumor, less than a year after Yiyo (grandfather) had two heart attacks and a stroke. He couldn't take care of himself, and so had to move into the home. It isn't like the ones here in America. Yiyo can still wander about the town on foot (and cane) and only has to come back for meals and sleep. He's ok for now, but his mind...

I have an Aunt who died there too. Lung Cancer. She smoked for most of her life and was in her late forties. She hardly looked human when she died.

I haven't seen any of them for over a year. I won't see them for at least another year and a half. Reason? My mother is back in school. We moved before my mother could finish her RN in New Jersey, but she didn't worry much because my father was still here. He moved out last year. For now, my father supports us until my brother and I move out, but she will not get anything after we leave. Which is why she's back in school, working for her life. Literally. She has both a full time job and is going to part-time night school, but during the summer she takes classes too (though she is off from work). Summer is usually the time we will take 2 months or so to visit Spain and the family, but we can't go until my mother finishes school.

My brother lives at home, though he should be a sophomore in college. While he does work (almost a full time job), he does not pay rent nor help around the house. All he does is eat our food, provide us with occasional laughs, and live in our basement. He causes a lot of friction in my family.

I don't know why my father left. I never asked. I can assume what I want to, and it wasn't such a horrible thing, but I never see him anymore. He's a workaholic and doesn't take terribly good care of himself, but he's trying. He has a lot of money, but we don't know how much. He's in India right now for business and will be for the next two weeks. My father is...my father.

I feel like I should apologize for that nearly pointless ramble, but there's a connection to all of it. Me. I'm caught in this whirlwind of family, money and politics (I haven't even talked about my dad's side of the family yet). The rest of you have these whirlwinds too. Swirling, painful, and probably worse than mine. But what is worse? The men of the dead wives in Spain.... Losing a life-spouse is the most traumatic thing that could happen. I'm sure they've considered killing themselves, but they're old. Old....

Death is different than it used to be. Sometimes it was ugly, and sometimes it was beautiful. Now it is in a hospital gown. Mankind has ripped death from mother nature's hands and stuffed it into sterilized rooms. I hear how they died. I hear what killed them. How were they? Was it long? Slow? Did they get to see the stars? When was the last time they saw the sunset? Did they bow from the bed in pain? Or lay there, simply waiting.

I think I'll stop here. Thank you for clicking and, well, sorry for the odd post. This may seem dark, but it's mostly reflective. Really, I'm terribly excited for my life. I know extremely little of it, but I'm very excited. Because it will end, it is all the more precious. ...What will death become?

Namaste (I honor the light within you), PO.