Sad Day

Usually I keep this type of stuff for my 'zine, but it was so profound to myself, I thought I would post it. And seeing as how the next 'zine is a future one, I didn't want to wait until two (or three) months from now, here it is.

Today I said "Goodbye" to someone. It was one of the saddest things I've ever had to do.

June's aunt, Kathleen, is a real trooper. Two years ago she was feeling very weak. Lethargic. Out of breath. The doctors found out she needed an emergency operation. A by-pass or something. She went under the knife, but complications developed. Something happened with her lungs and she was this close to not making it. It got so bad that the immediate family was called.

Somehow she hung in. But she wasn't out of the woods yet. Weak, she had to convalesce in the hospital for months. We visited her as much as we could. She still had her wits about her and did a lot of reading. A little down in the dumps, she slowly pulled through. After what seemed like certain death, she made a complete recovery.

It was a pleasure to see Aunty again at family gatherings after she was released from the hospital. Sure, she slowed down a bit, but at 78 she was still sharp as a tack and still the same warm, caring person we'd known for years. Liberal in her views, she was always concerned for the little guy, the downtrodden, the kids from broken homes. She was the moral centre of the family. The matriarch.

It's been about two years since her battle. Bonus years, really. Recently it was noticed that she was forgetting words. Mispronouncing. Using the wrong words. Then it got to the point where she would have trouble speaking. Everything else was fine, but she couldn't say anything! Really weird. The doctors couldn't figure it out. Then she couldn't write. It was like her communication abilities were breaking down.

After a CAT scan a tumor was discovered in her brain. A few days ago we found out she's got maybe two months left.

The entire family is devastated, including myself. It is expected she will be released from the hospital and let things be. This is her choice. She will end her days back home in Arborg, Manitoba.

Knowing I might not see her again or in a condition where she might not understand me, I snuck out from work today. I was going to go at lunch, but had a (damn) lunch meeting. Without telling anyone, I walked out and drove to the hospital.

She was in her bed, relaxing. We spoke -- or rather I spoke since she couldn't speak -- for about 15 minutes. I talked about mundane stuff. The weather. Weekend plans. Whatever.

Just before I left I couldn't take it anymore. I broke down. I haven't cried like that in years. We hugged and I told her how important she was to everyone and how much of an honour it was to have known her over the years. I said that I knew there was a really good chance I'd be around a lot longer than her, but that I love her and to hope for the best. I told her how I never got to say goodbye to others and was glad I was able to her.

Then I went to my stupid, insignificant meeting.