The last post was entirely too depressing.  Here.  Let me cheer things up.  Let’s talk about DEATH.

My aunt died.  And I’m laughing.  Not that she died - she is…was…an absolute gem in our family who will be sorely missed.  A spitfire full of self-proclaimed meanness who could make anybody laugh with this sweet-acerbic wit that you just would not believe.  And the woman could flat out tell a story.  Of course, how could you not coming from her mother, another full-on Southern spitfire named Fairy Bush.  With a name like Fairy Bush, you have to be funny, and Ms. Bush certainly lived up to that challenge, and passed her abilities on to her daughter with incredible sharpness.  Two peas in a pod, they were.

But anyway, my aunt died.  And I’m laughing.  I’m sure this is okay because this, of all my aunts, is the one who’d want me to the laugh the most.  But not at her.  She’s not the butt of the joke.  Never was, unless my father was doing the telling, but then she came back and turned it around where it was all his fault to start off with.  She was quick.  Fast as a bullet.  Sharp as a knife until Alzheimers dulled and addled her.  But she was one hell of a funny lady and always loved laughter.

So, my aunt died.  And I’m laughing.  Because I found out from my father sending me a text message.  A text message, of all things.  Here, hi, you’re aunt died, no plans yet.  It popped up while I was driving.  I only swerved a little.  This wasn’t unexpected.  She fell out of bed a couple of weeks ago and hit her head.  On blood thinners, the brain bleed was bad, the damage undoable and unlivable.  She was in hospice.  Funny.  Alzheimers and cancer and what finally got her was a bump on her head.  Guess she wasn’t as hard headed as she always proclaimed to be.  Always acted.  Always was.

My aunt died.  And I’m laughing.  Because this isn’t a hugely sudden shock.  She’s not someone I’ve seen recently, was fine, then boom, she’s gone.  She just kind of faded away, it feels like.  The last time I saw her may even have been my wedding, when the Alzheimers was really just starting to become an issue.  That’s how much she just, surprisingly, faded away.  MAYBE my wedding.  But I’m pretty sure she wasn’t in Mississippi for Thanksgiving anymore after that, and I never went to visited her.  Thirteen nieces and nephews and I’m the closest in proximity yet I could never bring myself to go down and play Russian Roulette with “Hi, do you remember who I am today?”  I’m also the youngest - the last to come along.  I was terrified she wouldn’t, so I didn’t go.  So selfish of me.  But still funny because the last time we saw her was at my wedding, and in consoling me, Hubby says, “I’ll really miss Aunt W,” and I laugh, “You never KNEW Aunt W,” and he tries with, “But I knew OF her.”  “You know her in pictures,” I say.  “But you don’t remember right now what she looked like,” I continue.  “It’ll be one of those peek in the caskets, ‘Oh THAT’S Aunt W!’ kind of moments for you.”  And later he says, “I really will miss Aunt J,” and I laugh because he’s trying so hard.  “Aunt J’s not dead.  Aunt W’s dead.  And you won’t miss her.  But I will.”

My aunt died.  And I’m laughing.  Because I’m afraid to stop.  I don’t want to cry.  How do I explain to The G who I’m crying for?  “Sweetie, your great-aunt - the one you never got to meet but who you would have loved and who would have absolutely LOVED you, you wicked little funny girl, you - that aunt.  The marvelous one whose stories other people will have to tell you because I just cannot do them justice. She died.”

See, my aunt died.  And I’m laughing.  Because I’ve been in this incredible funk all day with no real reason, and the skies have been not raining but just weeping a little all day and I’ve wondered why.  But now I know.  My heart knew what was going on hundreds of miles away.  And isn’t it funny how sometimes our moods reflect things unknowingly?  Things we don’t even know are happening but that on some level we sense, we just know, but we can’t put our finger on it until we get that call - or text message - and then it’s AHA!  That’s what was wrong today.  The universe was shifting just an iota during this transition of one of its beloved from life to death.  The world was starting to mourn while the heavens were opening just a crack to ask for the secret password.  If she didn’t know the password, she still talked her way in - of that much, I’m sure.

My aunt died.  And I am heartbroken.