My dad's sister died. It wasn't unexpected. At least, I don't think her death was. Sadly, I hadn't talked to her in many years. She was 73 years old. Her death at that age is an anomaly for women in my family, where most women have been known to live into their late 80's and into their early 90's. She did suffer from dementia, however. A contributing cause for sure.
Her passing was made worse news for me when the notification was made via her daughter's Facebook "wall." I guess death notifications posted on Facebook are the new normal and shouldn't shock me. But it did.
As the hours after her death notification passed. I began to think about how her death affected me. I wasn't crying. I didn't feel upset. I only felt sad that my cousin lost her mother. But I had a nagging feeling overtaking me of despair as her death caused me to reflect on my own mortality. Not death, just aging.
I fondly reflect on my childhood and realized how I used to revere my father's siblings. What kid wouldn't want to be an adult? They had cool shit. They had nice cars, homes, pools, and typical American lifestyles. I thought they didn't answer to anyone.
A damn shame they're old and dying now. I realize that life is a tease. We are given such a small time frame in existence, and It makes me think about where I fit into this process of evolution. Those thoughts reach the entire spectrum of my thought process that ultimately end with me thinking about that damn Disney movie that causes me to blame the whole circle of life. Is this cartoon and hakuna matata supposed to comfort me?
My aunt had a tough life. Some things she brought on herself, but there were other things that she couldn't control, like when she walked in on a store robbery. The bad guy pistol-whipped her and beat her down for no reason at all.
Then, there was the time her oldest daughter was married. It should have been a happy time for her. After all, her daughter found a good man. Her daughter was young, beautiful, and pregnant. One day, she left her apartment to check on her laundry. The laundry room was in the common area of her third-floor apartment building. She returned to her apartment and found a man waiting for her. She was robbed and raped, and she and her unborn child were murdered. The murderer jumped from her third-story building, where the police caught him. Her second oldest daughter saw the cancer, and it ultimately took her to the prime of her life.
The loss of a child or children, or the other terrible things occurring to her in this life, would lead someone to believe she endured enough to allow her some comfort. After all, she earned a little bit of life's reward. But the lottery or the excellent karma God never came knocking on the door for her.
My cousin lost her father, mother, and 2 sisters. She is the only one left on her side of the family to carry the torch that represents her half of the family. Why is life so cruel to some and prosperous to others? This can't be the only opportunity life will give us when a shitty hand is dealt and we just...die.
There are better ways to experience life.
What I have learned from my own horrible experience, not to mention witnessing other people's awful misfortunes in my job as a police officer, is life doesn't just hand you peace and prosperity because you think you earned the right to live in peace or because life made sacrifices out of your loved ones creating a "you owe me attitude." My aunt's life showed that wasn't the case.
Earn your place in this world. Work your way up and be happy during the process. This existence can't be explained. But we can write our own story explaining our existence to someone else. My aunt earned the right to live for 73 years. And no one can ever take that away.
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