We had just walked into my house, my brother and I. We had both had a rough day and since the van was gone, figured my mom was still taking care of my aunt. Getting the dishes cleaned and working together, we cleaned the house. Soon the house phone rang and everyone already knew. With tears streaming, we didn’t need to speak or hear the words my cousin spoke. My mom pulled in just as the words came out. She’s gone, and with that affirmation, the tears ran harder. The look on my mother’s face as she walked in said it all, she already knew. She was paler than snow and the sparkle that her eyes normally held had vanished. The depression and exhaustion she felt showed through her face and we all could feel it radiate off of her. It was pure, raw and would take a life time to get it out. It would take a life time to get the crazy child at heart mother I had always known, back. To mom, she lost more than just a family member, more than a sister. She lost a best friend. Where as for me, I lost a second mother, lost the back bone to my family, and lost the only other connection to my real dad that I had.

The day my aunt Leona passed on, was hectic. While my mom explained what she had come to understand, the rest of us, minus my step dad, got ready. They were holding a viewing at my aunt’s house for the family. At this time, I spaced out and don’t even remember what happened between getting ready and walking to the hospice bed in which Leona’s still lay. When I finally came back to reality I was crying at the bed side. I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe. Slowly, I walked away and straight into the bathroom down the hall. Shutting the door and not bothering to lock the door, I sank to the floor and cried. In my family, there’s no such thing as “alone time.” If someone cries, everyone knows. After a moment, my mom knocked at the door and I politely asked her to leave me alone. She ignored my request and pushed the door open anyway. Crying she sat in the bathroom with me for what seemed like hours. During this time, my cousin Kenny was outside smoking and trying to escape reality. After our small eternity, my mom and I finally came out of the bathroom and I walked out to be with him. Kenny knew I had been crying and knew better than anyone why Leona’s death hit deeper than any before. To understand the connection between my aunt and me, I would have to start at the beginning. After my real dad died, my aunt, Leona, took my broken family in. It was crowded but we all managed to live. Leona helped raise me and my brother, Mike. She was our second mother ever since and whatever I couldn’t say to my mom, I would tell her. She would then help me find a way to talk to my mom. She was our backbone.

The funeral wasn’t until the Monday after Christmas