Never Thought I'd Do That...

I apologize in advance if there's more typos than usual in this post, since I'm typing with tears rolling down my face...  I just called a great-aunt, the last sister of my grand-mother (maternal side), who's ninety-five years old, to wish her well and tell her I love her lots as tomorrow morning she will get her wish and will go "see her mom".  She picked her day, her time and requested to stay home for it surrounded by a doctor, her son holding her hand under a blanket with photos of all her grand-kids and great grand-kids.  She says she's ready; she's not changing her mind, she's done her time.  She has no quality of life anymore, the doctors told her they couldn't do anything else for her and she decided it was her time...

Aunt P. has always been a favorite of mine; she loved life, knew how to enjoy it and was already ready for a good laugh.  I remember her when I was a kid, going shopping with her, and having fun.

She liked to party, I have many memories of family moments where she would party hard... she smoked for many years too.  She was a Bingo addict.  I tagged along some bingo nights with my grand-mother and her... She was a gambler.  When the Casino opened in town, she was a regular.  Her partner was one as well, so they lived life, smoking, drinking and playing... and arguing.  She was quite stubborn, a known trait of that side of the family, and she was a good person.  For me she was.  She was more a grand-mother to me than her sister really was...

In 1991, around this time of year, I decided I've had enough and "announced" to my then boyfriend, with whom I'd been living for a few years, that I was moving out.  I started looking for an apartment, a place of my own, that I could afford on the salary I was making at the time. It had to be cheap too because I had car payments to do on my Corolla.  I've started visiting places, looking for "the place".  I don't remember how it came about but she contacted me to let me know the place above where she'd been living for over twenty years was available, and she could talk to the landlord.  Long story short, I met with the landlord and rented the place.  It wasn't new, far from it, it needed a lot of love, but the price was perfect and I wouldn't be completely alone.  Aunt P. would be downstairs.  After some work and lots of money I moved in. I lived there for over two years.  It was my place.  We had the exact same layout, and I was right above her.  As soon as the nicer days would arrive she would bring her rocker out on the balcony and sit there for hours.  I would see her almost daily, either as I was coming in or going out.  She mind her own business and I appreciated that immensely.  I would have dinner with her every so often, and she was always welcoming and listening without judgement.  We would laugh a lot together.   I was broke at the time, really, ate more Kraft Dinner than I care to remember... At first most of my money went on improving the place, and decided to wait to get appliances.  I would "refrigerate" my things between the two doors leading to my balcony and when it started to get warmer I would ask her if I could use some of their fridge space.  It happened more than once, that I would go down, asking for ice after a hard training at the dojo, and would go back up with frozen corn or strawberries because that was all she had frozen at the time.  When I couldn't afford a TV she decided to give me the one they had in their bedroom stating "we don't really watch it, we tend more to sleep". 

She loved to tease, to "Take the Mickey" as the Brits say out of me.  One weekend, after I had a "gentleman's visit" as I was coming down to run an errand, she was sitting outside.  As I said hi, she grinned and said:  "Well, that was a vigorous one... The ceiling light was swaying!"  I was shock.

Last October I went to visit her with my mother and my uncle.  We spent a few hours together, reminiscing the laughs, the jokes we've had done, her calling me "her old bag" since I turned thirty, because that year I had declared myself "an old bag" - she thought it was hilarious that I would self-decree that and started calling me that.  When we left that day, we said our farewells.  She'd told us her doctors had told her they couldn't do anything more for her.  She could go at anytime.  

Last Sunday, Hubby and I went to visit her one last time.  It was a short visit.  We sat with her and she told us that she had made her decision, her last one and was ready to go see her mom... She told us the day and time.  She was at peace with her decision and she insisted on the fact that she was proud of herself for making it.  She explained that since she couldn't do anything anymore, what was the point of her continuing, it was time for her to go.  She did live her life, she claimed she's been happy, she had a good life, but it was her time.  It was peaceful and it felt good to hear her say those things.  I thanked her for being there for me, for teaching me how to enjoy life and be courageous and told her I loved her.  She was thankful and oh so tired.  It showed.  Since then I've been thinking of her, of how she touched my life, and wanted to make sure to bid her farewell one last time... so I called her earlier and did.

I know she's lived her life fully, that she's ready, that her body is done and that it is her decision and I respect that, but in some ways it reminds me of my dad's passing... even if we talked about it and all, it wasn't easy.  I can't even imagine how she must feel, looking at her son and knowing that at this time tomorrow she won't be here...  It's so fucked up, my brain doesn't want to wrap itself around the fact that she's ready, and as she says "tired and relieved".  I understand it and know that is part of life, but yet, life sucks big times in moments like these.

May you feel your mother's embrace once again aunt P. and find solace.  Please keep an eye on me if you can, wherever you'll be. Love you and will miss you. 

Ta vieille sacoche