the coldest season.

Painting: Kathe Kollwitz - Poverty

In the loving memory of my Aunt G.
Nov 1949 - Jan 2010


Some of us grow up, and some others grow tired of life.
I knew this would have happened from the day I got that call.

In the span of two months you were taken away.
You smiled in October.
You fell unconscious in November.
You woke-up and spoke the last words of your life.
You were confined to a forced mutism in December.
I could see you following every single words with your eyes,
they spoke louder than what your mind could.
I know you understood everything we said, the terrible illness that affected you, and I know you were well aware of your early fate.
I know you were happy when we were there, and desperate when we were forced to go back home.
But I know that you left this world in peace, that your departure was the only present you could give to yourself.
With your family gathered all around you,
you decided that you had already dealt with too much.
So in January you left.

I still can't get over the sight of your body into that coffin.
I kissed that cold pain away from your forhead.
You left with an enigmatic smile.

Is that because it was a relief?
Or is that because you wanted us to remember your jokes?
Or is it because you were happy that you had wonderful parents,
sisters and brother,
the most affectionate husband who supported each and every decision you made,
loved you endlessly and unconditionally,
and had two strong, healthy, and intelligent kids with you?
I know that you are proud of your daughter, who has been teaching little children,
serving the community and helping, just the way you wanted her to be.
I know that you are proud of your son, who - just like you- took his courage and went far away to get the job he wanted, and be satisfied.
I know you were proud of me, when I got my Bachelor degree, and for the first time
I was no longer the shy child to you, I was a grown woman with a cause.

But do you know, auntie, that I love you?
do you know that this is the coldest season ever?
do you know that your husband is one of the strongest men I've ever met?
do you know that your son is now a mature young man?
do you know your daughter has so much love into her heart, but so much pain for your early departure?
do you know that everyone was grateful for your constant help?
You saved many lives for more than 30 years, and you kept serving the community through volunteering works.
Sometimes I regret being atheist, because now I wish there were a way for you to know how much you were loved,
a way for you to see the many tears that were shed to your memory at your funeral,
the infinite carpet of flowers at the cemetery, all for you,
the 1,000 people who came to mourn you,
to warm you up with their love,
on that freezing day.



You will always be remembered.
You will always be loved.

L.