I knew it was bad when they contacted me to tell me she was in the hospital. I knew it was bad that she wasn't able to contact me herself.
We were supposed to have coffee the following Friday.
They texted me on Sunday.
She died on Tuesday.
I'd been constantly on edge for those two days, waiting for a phone call, not knowing whether it would be my aunt (good) or her son (bad). On the walking pad, 21 minutes shy of hitting 3.5hrs because it was the only thing I could do to dull the anxiety, the phone rang. I'd been expecting the call to come from her phone, just as her son had texted me from it, regardless of who was on the other end. But when I saw his name pop up on my phone, I knew.
I sat crying on the kitchen floor. When we got off the phone, the tears immediately devolved into loud, heaving, guttural sobs. Even when you know it's coming, even though she'd been in poor health for a few years now, you're never really prepared for the impact of it. A few hours later, after initially retreating to bed, I finished my last 21 minutes so I wouldn't have such an odd number.
Friday, the funeral.
I haven't seen most of the extended family in a very long time. For most of them, maybe 20 years. Even as a child, we were never really part of big family events, so it was more just when we'd see them at my aunt's house. I had to mentally prepare myself that I could very well leave feeling more alone than ever, as I've always felt very 'outside' the family and this might just reinforce that.
I knew it was going to be big, but I wasn't prepared for just how big. There was maybe 150 people there, most of whom I'm somehow related to but don't really know. It was a very daunting thing to walk into. She had four sons, 20+ grandkids (around my age), plus everyone's partners, plus great-grandkids. I felt very much a fish out of water, only able to match a handful of names to faces.
The service was beautiful. I sat towards the back, unsure of where I belonged in the family.
After, I spoke briefly with her son, as well as my aunt's lifelong best friend, who I remember fondly from my younger years. The others, I wasn't too sure about approaching. The son asked if I was going to join the gathering at their house, which I didn't know was happening. But I took the opportunity, even though it was more daunting than the funeral itself given the social aspect.
I got the opportunity to talk with a few more people (mainly the host son's wife, plus another son and his wife), who were all absolutely lovely and kind and welcoming.
I eventually grabbed a few cheese and crackers from the overwhelming spread of nibbles. As soon as I did, one of the women I'd been talking to said (very loudly, in a very busy room) "Good to see you eating!" and, after I probably looked quite shocked, gestured at my body. Then brought over a platter of cakes and made a few jokey little comments about 'fattening stuff'. While, in a way, it's something validating to hear, mostly it's also a great way to make someone already anxious about eating in front of people even more anxious because it turns out I'm not just being paranoid and people are watching.
I'm not really around strangers often enough to have to deal with these type of comments. Most people in my life tend to actively avoid commenting, for better or worse. My aunt was the only one to comment in recent years. It felt like a very neutral comment, neither compliment or concern, in a similar way to how my mum used to. Sometimes I think there's not actually been a change, or that it's so slight that I'm the only one who sees it. I tend to focus on the individual body parts, and I think sometimes I lose sight of the bigger picture, of my body as a whole. To me, I am not greater than the sum of my parts.
The service was beautiful. I sat towards the back, unsure of where I belonged in the family.
After, I spoke briefly with her son, as well as my aunt's lifelong best friend, who I remember fondly from my younger years. The others, I wasn't too sure about approaching. The son asked if I was going to join the gathering at their house, which I didn't know was happening. But I took the opportunity, even though it was more daunting than the funeral itself given the social aspect.
I got the opportunity to talk with a few more people (mainly the host son's wife, plus another son and his wife), who were all absolutely lovely and kind and welcoming.
I eventually grabbed a few cheese and crackers from the overwhelming spread of nibbles. As soon as I did, one of the women I'd been talking to said (very loudly, in a very busy room) "Good to see you eating!" and, after I probably looked quite shocked, gestured at my body. Then brought over a platter of cakes and made a few jokey little comments about 'fattening stuff'. While, in a way, it's something validating to hear, mostly it's also a great way to make someone already anxious about eating in front of people even more anxious because it turns out I'm not just being paranoid and people are watching.
I'm not really around strangers often enough to have to deal with these type of comments. Most people in my life tend to actively avoid commenting, for better or worse. My aunt was the only one to comment in recent years. It felt like a very neutral comment, neither compliment or concern, in a similar way to how my mum used to. Sometimes I think there's not actually been a change, or that it's so slight that I'm the only one who sees it. I tend to focus on the individual body parts, and I think sometimes I lose sight of the bigger picture, of my body as a whole. To me, I am not greater than the sum of my parts.
It was also the first time I've been around alcohol since I stopped drinking, almost two years ago now. It wasn't as difficult as I'd been worried about, helped by the fact most people drank beer, so I wasn't dealing with an overwhelming scent of wine or spirits. Sparkling water only for me. It's also been my first time dealing with grief sober as an adult. That first week, I honestly thought I might break. But I know if I start, I won't be able to stop.
But amongst the sadness, there is a small bright spot.
I have been extended an invitation for Family, as it were. Host son's wife (the only of the four sons who lives locally) said that I need to know I still have a family. That I'm not alone, and I'm always welcome. And that once things settle a bit, they'd like to reach out and get to know one another again. I immediately started bawling. I felt very seen, and it came as a huge relief. I told her I would really love that, and it means a lot to me. After preparing myself to come out of it with nothing, it was more than I could've hoped for, but everything I wanted.
It's been a significant loss for me. Not just the loss of an aunt, but the loss of a connection to my mum. She was the last family I really had a connection to, outside of my brother messaging for things like Christmas and birthdays. It's been a very lonely feeling.
I went into it expecting nothing. It was an incredibly difficult situation to walk into, but I'm so glad I did, to show up and show that I do want to be part of the family. Sometimes it feels like because I missed the opportunity as a child, that it's too late. But I suppose sometimes it really is grief that brings people together.
Today, I am starting to feel perhaps not quite so low. I still went back to bed this morning, but I also got back up. I suppose it's part the sense of closure that funerals somehow give, part the glimmer of hope that I might still have family. It's been an awful couple of weeks, but maybe there is light at the end of the tunnel after all.
I have been extended an invitation for Family, as it were. Host son's wife (the only of the four sons who lives locally) said that I need to know I still have a family. That I'm not alone, and I'm always welcome. And that once things settle a bit, they'd like to reach out and get to know one another again. I immediately started bawling. I felt very seen, and it came as a huge relief. I told her I would really love that, and it means a lot to me. After preparing myself to come out of it with nothing, it was more than I could've hoped for, but everything I wanted.
It's been a significant loss for me. Not just the loss of an aunt, but the loss of a connection to my mum. She was the last family I really had a connection to, outside of my brother messaging for things like Christmas and birthdays. It's been a very lonely feeling.
I went into it expecting nothing. It was an incredibly difficult situation to walk into, but I'm so glad I did, to show up and show that I do want to be part of the family. Sometimes it feels like because I missed the opportunity as a child, that it's too late. But I suppose sometimes it really is grief that brings people together.
Today, I am starting to feel perhaps not quite so low. I still went back to bed this morning, but I also got back up. I suppose it's part the sense of closure that funerals somehow give, part the glimmer of hope that I might still have family. It's been an awful couple of weeks, but maybe there is light at the end of the tunnel after all.
Some of the collages my aunt made over the years, which hanged proudly on her walls, displayed at the post-funeral gathering
xxBella
