In Loving Memory: Aunt Diane
The other night at dinner grandma wiped her mouth with a napkin and simultaneously closed her eyes, and in that moment she looked just like you, I could've sworn you were the one sitting there.
It's been months since you passed away, nearly 3 to be exact, and I have yet to completely absorb all of this as fact.
You had just spent the summer with us at the cabin. You looked and acted just like yourself, the you you had always been my entire life, except this version lacked hair. You still woke up every morning and wore sandals and a house coat around. You'd turn the coffee maker on, prepared by you the night before, and fill your mom and yourself multiple cups each morning. I have countless memories with you there, which I will forever cherish.
You were always interested in learning something new. I remember one summer you were reading an autobiography about some woman. You loved newspapers and pamphlets and brochures, reading plaques next to statues (even if you've read them time and time before). Another time you brought a DVD you wanted us to watch about some place in Michigan (that I can't remember unfortunately). Not only did you enjoy the learning aspect, but also extending that knowledge to others. You always had news to share, or stories to tell, and easily got the attention you were owed. I would do anything to hear you go on about someone or something I knew nothing about, just one more time.
It's been incredibly difficult for me to completely accept and understand the obvious fact that you're gone. I know you are. I remember everything vividly - my mom telling me early that morning that you'd passed, the visitation and funeral, visiting your grave. I remember the last time I saw you alive. I gave you a hug and you hugged me back, and you kissed my cheek and said "I love you", to which I said back. I didn't know then that I would never see you again, but I'm grateful that we had that opportunity for unofficial goodbyes that I will hold onto forever.
You were such a parental figure to me. You went everywhere with my mom: to all of our events and games and graduations. You spent every summer vacation with my mom, helping care for 3 rambunctious and growing kids. You also had your own kids, and eventually grand kids, and were even more spectacular with them I'm sure, if that's even possible.
It will be an adjustment for us all to continue life without you right beside us. You were everywhere all the time, simply unable to be left out. We as a family would be lying now if we said we didn't feel the weight of your absence. I can only speak for myself though, and I feel it immensely. Over the last few years, I've grown accustomed to being greeted by you at grandma's every Friday and Saturday night. Expected your car to be parked in your spot in her driveway. Every time I pass her house I check to see if you're there yet, only to realize you won't be. It's even harder to accept when your parking spot is filled by someone new.
We were all blessed to have you for as long as we did, and I know we all unanimously agree that we wish we had longer. Your passing brings me peace though, as I know you're no longer suffering, and there is nothing more I wish could have been accomplished in your life as well. Cancer is a soulless ghoul, our family is all too aware of that. I hope heaven is treating you well. I bet grandpa was both heartbroken and overjoyed to see your face. I know someday you will feel the exact same way about me, that's just the person you were...
I visited your grave yesterday, and it was harder than I expected it to be. It could have been the fact that I went alone, when last time Heather was with me, or your loss could have simply just been heavy on my heart. Either way, I cried. I miss you so much. So much, in fact, that I think it's made it that much harder to grasp, if that makes any sense...
I love you, Aunt Diane. With all my love - may you rest in peace.
It's been months since you passed away, nearly 3 to be exact, and I have yet to completely absorb all of this as fact.
You had just spent the summer with us at the cabin. You looked and acted just like yourself, the you you had always been my entire life, except this version lacked hair. You still woke up every morning and wore sandals and a house coat around. You'd turn the coffee maker on, prepared by you the night before, and fill your mom and yourself multiple cups each morning. I have countless memories with you there, which I will forever cherish.
You were always interested in learning something new. I remember one summer you were reading an autobiography about some woman. You loved newspapers and pamphlets and brochures, reading plaques next to statues (even if you've read them time and time before). Another time you brought a DVD you wanted us to watch about some place in Michigan (that I can't remember unfortunately). Not only did you enjoy the learning aspect, but also extending that knowledge to others. You always had news to share, or stories to tell, and easily got the attention you were owed. I would do anything to hear you go on about someone or something I knew nothing about, just one more time.
It's been incredibly difficult for me to completely accept and understand the obvious fact that you're gone. I know you are. I remember everything vividly - my mom telling me early that morning that you'd passed, the visitation and funeral, visiting your grave. I remember the last time I saw you alive. I gave you a hug and you hugged me back, and you kissed my cheek and said "I love you", to which I said back. I didn't know then that I would never see you again, but I'm grateful that we had that opportunity for unofficial goodbyes that I will hold onto forever.
You were such a parental figure to me. You went everywhere with my mom: to all of our events and games and graduations. You spent every summer vacation with my mom, helping care for 3 rambunctious and growing kids. You also had your own kids, and eventually grand kids, and were even more spectacular with them I'm sure, if that's even possible.
It will be an adjustment for us all to continue life without you right beside us. You were everywhere all the time, simply unable to be left out. We as a family would be lying now if we said we didn't feel the weight of your absence. I can only speak for myself though, and I feel it immensely. Over the last few years, I've grown accustomed to being greeted by you at grandma's every Friday and Saturday night. Expected your car to be parked in your spot in her driveway. Every time I pass her house I check to see if you're there yet, only to realize you won't be. It's even harder to accept when your parking spot is filled by someone new.
We were all blessed to have you for as long as we did, and I know we all unanimously agree that we wish we had longer. Your passing brings me peace though, as I know you're no longer suffering, and there is nothing more I wish could have been accomplished in your life as well. Cancer is a soulless ghoul, our family is all too aware of that. I hope heaven is treating you well. I bet grandpa was both heartbroken and overjoyed to see your face. I know someday you will feel the exact same way about me, that's just the person you were...
I visited your grave yesterday, and it was harder than I expected it to be. It could have been the fact that I went alone, when last time Heather was with me, or your loss could have simply just been heavy on my heart. Either way, I cried. I miss you so much. So much, in fact, that I think it's made it that much harder to grasp, if that makes any sense...
I love you, Aunt Diane. With all my love - may you rest in peace.
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