My Aunt Shelly is probably going to die in the next few days. Her heart stopped yesterday, and although the doctors were able to get it started again she hasn’t shown any sign of waking up or indeed any brainwave activity at all.
Shelly is 13 years older than my dad, so I never knew her well. We always knew her as the fireball aunt who was now in China, now in California, now in Egypt, always moving, always roaming. She passed through our lives on occasion, and was (also) always loving.
It’s hard to think about losing an aunt. Even (especially?) one to whom you aren’t close. We lost Libbie’s sister to Lupus in February, and the shock waves from that one haven’t entirely died down (nor will they ever, I suspect). I don’t know what to think about this one; I don’t know where to put my thoughts. I should be more upset, but maybe not? Maybe the end of life is okay, if you’ve lived your life to the fullest? Maybe maybe maybe.
These problems aren’t new, nor are they particular to me. People have been losing distant relatives and have been unsure what to do about it for millennia. Hopefully one of them was able to say something intelligent about it. If you have a quote, I’d love to see it in the comments.
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