fly away home
"To whom shall I speak today?
One lacks an intimate,
One resorts to an unknown to complain.
To whom shall I speak today?
I am burdened with grief
For lack of an intimate."
When I was little, my Aunt Liz lived with us, and she represented a mode of kindness and open intimacy that I could not learn from anyone else involved in my upbringing. There was a sort of standing welcome with her, a ready smile, a basic and whimsical sweetness.
Aunt Liz taught me about how things can smell purple or green, about fish and rivers, about laughter, and about believing in your own kind of beauty. She had red hair and an interesting nose and wore a lot of purple. She loved fishing and art and wondering about things, and she was my favorite, I think, of all my extended family, because I think she was one of very few who got me, and I never forgot that. She was a good woman, and brave, and nurtured and protected beauty in this world.
We haven't spoken in years, because of this circumstance or that, and I haven't seen her in even more.
She died yesterday of a broken heart.
Aunt Liz, I'm sorry I didn't know how much you were hurting, and I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry you had to know so much pain. I'm sorry things never worked out like you planned. I never met anyone who knew you and didn't adore you. Whatever distance happened, you were always family to me, and I was looking forward to seeing you at my wedding, and catching up someday.
I hope it's okay now. I hope you make it where you're going and it's better than anything you ever had here.
You will be missed by a lot of people, and one of them is a loving niece who will always be grateful she had you in her life, even just for a little while. Rest well.
"Death is before me today,
Like a sick one's recovery,
Like going outdoors after confinement.
...
Death is before me today,
Like the clearing of the sky,
As when a person discovers what she ignored.
Death is before me today,
Like someone's longing to see her home
When she has spent many years in captivity."
--The Dispute of the Man With His Ba, unknown Middle Kingdom Egyptian author, tr. Lichtheim with a couple of pronoun edits.
One lacks an intimate,
One resorts to an unknown to complain.
To whom shall I speak today?
I am burdened with grief
For lack of an intimate."
When I was little, my Aunt Liz lived with us, and she represented a mode of kindness and open intimacy that I could not learn from anyone else involved in my upbringing. There was a sort of standing welcome with her, a ready smile, a basic and whimsical sweetness.
Aunt Liz taught me about how things can smell purple or green, about fish and rivers, about laughter, and about believing in your own kind of beauty. She had red hair and an interesting nose and wore a lot of purple. She loved fishing and art and wondering about things, and she was my favorite, I think, of all my extended family, because I think she was one of very few who got me, and I never forgot that. She was a good woman, and brave, and nurtured and protected beauty in this world.
We haven't spoken in years, because of this circumstance or that, and I haven't seen her in even more.
She died yesterday of a broken heart.
Aunt Liz, I'm sorry I didn't know how much you were hurting, and I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry you had to know so much pain. I'm sorry things never worked out like you planned. I never met anyone who knew you and didn't adore you. Whatever distance happened, you were always family to me, and I was looking forward to seeing you at my wedding, and catching up someday.
I hope it's okay now. I hope you make it where you're going and it's better than anything you ever had here.
You will be missed by a lot of people, and one of them is a loving niece who will always be grateful she had you in her life, even just for a little while. Rest well.
"Death is before me today,
Like a sick one's recovery,
Like going outdoors after confinement.
...
Death is before me today,
Like the clearing of the sky,
As when a person discovers what she ignored.
Death is before me today,
Like someone's longing to see her home
When she has spent many years in captivity."
--The Dispute of the Man With His Ba, unknown Middle Kingdom Egyptian author, tr. Lichtheim with a couple of pronoun edits.
Labels: remembered
posted by little light | 10:43 PM
4 Comments:
Love for you, my friend, and for your aunt.
Thank you for this post.
I'm so sorry for your loss.
*hugs*
my thoughts and prayers are with you.
I'm so sorry, LL. xox
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