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Note: there is a lot to this story, so I'm going to break it up into two parts.

“Your aunt has a tumor at the base of her skull.”

Those were the words that entered my ears when I answered my cell phone on the fifth of June. My aunt has successfully kicked breast cancer’s ass in 2008. It returned in January. This tumor was an extension of all those troubles. I vaguely knew about all of this, but since I wasn't as close to my aunt as I should have been, I didn't realize how awful it was. Yet when I heard those words, the first thing out of my mouth to my mom was, “We’re coming home.”

Two weeks passed. The boy got out of school, I finished up my medical appointments, the husband haggled for time off, and we planned the trip. I was following what was going on through my mom and cousin. At first, it was pretty encouraging. Then the seizures started. Little things happened to dampen everyone’s excitement of her pulling through. I grew more and more worried. Finally, the 19th rolled around and we left for California.

Our first day was uneventful. We made it to Kearney, Nebraska in decent time. We didn’t even experience the usual storms that seem to linger over Kearney every time that we are there. The next morning started our trip to Salt Lake City. Somewhere in the middle of Wyoming, my phone rang again. It was my mother. The news was unexpected.

“The doctors are giving her anywhere from a week to a month to live.”

Shit.

The tears started rolling down my face before I could stop them. My husband looked at me worriedly. I gave him the signal that I would talk to him in a minute and finished up the conversation with my mom. I told my husband what was going on, and he tried to comfort me as best as he could while barreling down the Interstate at 80mph. My mind was a jumble of thoughts and questions, the main one being, “Why her? What the fuck did she do to deserve this death sentence?” We stopped for dinner in Wyoming, but I wasn’t hungry. Food tasted like sawdust. We made it to Salt Lake City that night. I know I treated my husband like crap for no reason, but I’ve never been one to share my pain, and being a bitch was easier than just crying and talking about what I was feeling.

We woke up the next morning and headed out. Destination: Danville, California, my husband’s hometown. We were going to stay with his parents for a day, then head two hours south to my parent’s house. Somewhere in Nevada, my phone rang. My mom.

“The doctors are now saying anywhere from a couple of days to a week.”

Fuck.

Without breaking down, and without thinking about anything else, I hauled ass through Nevada, topping out at about 100mph. Stupid, I know, but I wanted to get to California as fast as I could. I made it to Winnemucca in a little under two hours. We stopped for lunch, then continued on. I got us through that state in record time. Along the way, my husband and I decided to drive the extra two hours and just come straight to my parents house. We accomplished this, and made it to Castroville by 10pm.

The next day, my husband and son left to visit his family. My sister and I went to the hospital to see my aunt. I was afraid, not knowing what to expect. My sister and I went to the floor that my aunt was on and ran into my uncle in the waiting room. I hugged him, and we talked to him while my aunt’s sheets were changed and she was moved around a bit. When we finally went to see her, my sister, my strong willed, balls of steel sister, burst into tears. I couldn’t fault her. It took all my willpower to stop my tears. I can’t adequately describe how I felt at that moment, nor do I want to. It is….private, I guess. My uncle came back into the room and we stayed to talk for a bit.

Later that day, I came back with my mom. Nothing much had changed. My aunt was still unconscious, but in major amounts of pain. It hurt to see her, and the guilt of so many years of shunning her washed over me. It was like the same bullshit with my grandmother had come back home to roost. Sixteen years wasted on what? Some petty fight that I couldn’t even remember now. I mean, yeah, I started talking to her again within the past year, but it didn’t make up for the times I didn’t talk to her. However, that is my cross to bear, and I really don’t want to get into that part right now. Moving on…

For the next week and a half, I came every day to that hospital. Even on the day I had to go to the ER for my own issues, I still went up afterwards, high as a motherfucking kite, to check on her. For the most part, I was stoic. There was one day that I had to step out and cry, and then there was THAT day. That day that changed me forever. I really don’t think I will ever get over it.

The days are all jumbled in my mind now, except THAT day. It was a Sunday, and my husband and son were at his parent’s house. I had gone to the hospital with my mom, and my aunt was AWAKE. She was aware, she knew we were there. She was also in a ton of pain, and I wish to God that she hadn’t been. Towards the end of the visit, my mom went to her to tell her goodbye, and my aunt said something that amounted to the fact that she missed my mom already. My mom was in shock. I went to my aunt after my mom moved and told her goodbye and that I loved her, and she said, quite clearly (to me), “I love you too.” At that moment, I literally felt my heart break. It hurt. I felt like everything wrong with the world had come into this hospital room and just crapped all over. I knew I would never be the same after that. I’m not. My heart is still cracked in two.

My mom and I went home, and I told her that I needed to get away for a bit. She understood. She knew I had to go for a drive and battle my own demons. I took along my notebook and headed for the beach. It was crowded as hell, so I went to the next best place for solitude: the local cemetery. I sat in the car and cried for a solid hour. I wrote a lot in my notebook, but I don’t have the desire to look at it now and see how I was feeling. I know that it would just make me hurt more. Maybe someday I’ll read it, but not at this moment. When I was finished, I went to seek out my friend, and we arranged a night out for Wednesday.

That week, we saw a change come over my aunt. It was death, making an unwelcome but obvious visit. It scared the ever loving hell out of me. I’ll never forget it. I can’t. Her face, her pallor, her smell….they’ll all haunt me for a long time, if not forever. I knew, my mom knew, my cousin knew, my uncle knew. At that point, we were just waiting. I can’t even begin to describe the agony my uncle and cousin were going through. I just know that whatever I was feeling, they were feeling a thousand-fold. And that hurt as well because I couldn’t fucking fix it.

That Wednesday, June 30th, I went out with my husband, my sister, and my friend. We did our usual thing, and got back home at about midnight. Everyone went inside, but I went across the street to talk to my neighbor. I don’t remember what we were talking about, but I do remember her saying, “Your mom is standing outside looking for you.” I looked across the street and saw my mom….and I knew. She was crying. I ran back home and she said, “She’s gone.”

My aunt died at 11:30pm on June 30th, thirty minutes before July 1st…my cousin’s birthday.