My aunt died today. I had hoped she would live till next week, so that I could see her. But she didn’t. And I didn’t. I had work, teaching school, through this week. And I just couldn’t see taking off to go up there when she’s rallied several times before– even gone home twice when doctors said she was at the end.

This time she was, though.

The funeral is Saturday morning, which I hate. Because I still can’t go. Finals are that day. I have to be there and grade them.

I thought maybe I could go up tomorrow, but someone would have to be with the boys and there just isn’t anyone. My mom’s too sick to go, too sick even to have the boys hang out at her house.

She’s dead. Her oldest daughter is one year older than I am. Her youngest is 27. Shonda, the youngest, just lost a baby. Now her mom is gone too.

You know, I haven’t seen Jerry a lot recently. Life gets so busy sometimes with kids and work and all. But just last night I was thinking about how she talks. Now she doesn’t anymore.

Jerry and Jimmy and our families were close. My dad’s falling apart. His siblings don’t all know yet. My mom’s too sick to travel and my sister’s having contractions, so she can’t go. My middle sister is afraid to fly, so she probably won’t make it either.

Ga. When my mom dies, will there be anyone there? Or will they all be too busy, too stuck in their life, to make it?

I loved Jerry. I love her kids. But in a way I don’t want to go to the funeral. What will you say? How can you stand the crying? But if I don’t go, what does that say to her family, who I do love? Will it say I don’t care?

I’d have to fly up, if I could go at all. And I’d have to fly up tomorrow night and fly back Saturday night. And the airport with the reasonable rates are an hour from here. And even then someone would have to come to the airport to get me.


I hate death.