It’s funny, sometimes, how life works. It’s funny that I would be writing a piece that explores the different dimensions of grief, and then have a situation occur within my own family that forces me to navigate through my own emotions.
Yesterday afternoon, I got a call from my mother stating that my aunt had died. I was in a semi-crowded cafe, so I wasn’t sure I had heard her correctly. It was like a fog; “No, that can’t be what she said. I had to have heard her wrong.”
I didn’t. And she’s dead. And I’m not quite sure how I’m handling it. I don’t even know if I’m handling it. I’ve mostly been in a state of, “But, she was just alive. She just had a birthday. She was only fifty. She can’t be dead.”
But she is.
Here we are.