290416 - ZNT x Third Aunt
#100happydays: DAY 9
101 Things I Think About: DAY 9
I wrote about my grandmother yesterday, so I think it's fitting to write about my third aunt today. It's been a year since she passed away - my grandmother passed away on the 28th of April, and my third aunt passed away on the 25th of April the year after.
I was closest to my grandmother and third aunt (I'm only talking about extended family here, so I'll not mention my mother), but a family feud between my mother and her sisters meant that battle lines were drawn and sides were taken, and we didn't come into contact with my second or third aunt for years after that.
I didn't know the whole story because I was quite young when it happened (which meant that no one would tell me anything), so all I knew was that my second and third aunt had done something really bad, which was the reason for not visiting them any more. I didn't feel much about not visiting my second aunt and cousin because we were on good terms but not as close as I felt to my third aunt - not being able to visit her hurt the most.
It was a mess of conflicting emotions when we ran into my third aunt at the nursing home (remember my grandmother had to be shifted into a nursing home because no one could take her in, especially after she became wheelchair-bound) because courtesy and good manners meant that I still greeted her, but the coldness that was displayed from both my mother and my aunt was jarring and confusing, and only served to re-emphasise the fact that my third aunt was supposed to be the bad guy here.
Small wonder that I eventually turned cold myself, and found myself at a loss for words whenever I saw her - what do you say to someone you used to be really close to, now that you find that you're not supposed to talk to them?
It hurt more when I remembered all the little things - my third aunt knew I read a lot as a child, so she used to get me book vouchers for my birthday and special occasions like Christmas. Nothing fancy, but they meant the world to me because she encouraged me to get books that I wanted, and they were essentially from her. Others gave me things like pretty dresses (which I loathed) and toys, but she gave me books - in this field, she understood me as well as my mother did, that I wanted and treasured books more than I did just about anything else.
My aunt was the chill person in the family, the one I ran to after I greeted my grandmother, the one I could talk to when I felt that I couldn't talk to my mother or anyone else. My aunt was the person who didn't particularly like it when anyone touched her, but allowed me to hug her because she doted on me.
What do you say to someone who used to understand you so well, now that you weren't supposed to talk to her? Nothing, that's what you say.
The years came and went, and we never spoke much besides the usual polite conversation to ask how she was doing with her work, what I was doing in school. The laughter, the jokes and the light-hearted conversation that used to flow so easily had all stopped.
I learned to hate - that was the worst thing of all now that I think about it. For no reason other than because I didn't know what was going on and followed what everyone else did, I ended up hating my third aunt for years, and struggling with not knowing why I hated her, but holding on to this hate regardless.
Even when my grandmother passed away, I didn't talk to her, instead choosing to stand aloof and stick to my mother. I was angry and bitter after my grandmother's passing, and when the news broke that my third aunt was sick with some kind of cancer, I said some things that I'm truly not proud of. We had to visit her more often afterwards, mostly to check up on her but also to chat and keep her company because she was struggling with her medications and chemotherapy.
I softened towards her in those few months, but the damage was already done - what were we supposed to say to fill the silence that had accumulated over years and years?
Nothing, that's what you say.
My third aunt was eventually hospitalised, and I remember the night very clearly - I had just gotten home after having dinner with Tsuki-kun (we were dating then) and my mother called to tell me that she and my eldest aunt were rushing to the hospital because something had happened to my third aunt, a relapse if I remember correctly. I freaked out, and told my mother that I wanted to take a cab down to the hospital because I wanted to see my third aunt, but my mother told me not to and to stay home - she would call me in case anything happened.
I called Tsuki-kun and cried - I told him I was so scared that she would leave without giving me the chance to apologise for how I'd treated her over the years and to tell her how much I loved her. It was mostly to comfort me (what else do you do if a girl is crying over the phone, honestly?), but he assured me that she would make it through the night, and I would be able to head down to the hospital first thing tomorrow and tell her all the things I'd only just told him. I believed him, mostly because I didn't have any other choice and couldn't go to the hospital, and also because I felt bad for inconveniencing him this way, and I thanked him for comforting me.
She didn't make it.
I suppose her funeral was about as normal as funerals tend to be, but my mother and I felt her presence in a thunderstorm on the first day - I don't really know how to explain it, but suffice to say that her post-mortem makeup was too thick and needed retouching, and she was a very private person who even in death didn't appreciate people gathering around her to watch the artist work. Her embarrassment and anger were so strong that I was genuinely afraid that someone might get injured that day.
She came back as a dragonfly on the second day, and stayed in the hall to watch her friends and colleagues who came to pay their respects.
I honestly thought the funeral was the hardest part of everything, but moving her stuff out of her house was just as bad - memories have a bad habit of sneaking up on you just when you think that they're quiet and dormant, and then you're completely unprepared for the onslaught of emotions that come. Case in point: I had to walk out of her room to get a hold of myself because I caught sight of a Teletubby doll that she still had.
I think Teletubbies are creepy as hell now, but I adored them as a child, and my third aunt and I had a doll each - I had Lala (the yellow one) and she had Po (the red one). I didn't know she still kept the doll with her, and everything I felt - guilt, regret, love, shame - became too much to take in that moment.
But the worst part of my aunt's passing were the stories that surfaced afterwards: Her church friends recognised me during the wake, and told me that she talked about me during their sessions - I had thought that she had forgotten all about me, or that she didn't care, and had allowed that to fuel my hate for her.
My mother told me how my aunt was very particular about her space and her room, and allowed absolutely no one into her room - even the dog was afraid of her, but for some reason I was allowed to enter her room as I liked, and talk to her while playing with the models on her desk (which was unthinkable) and sit on and sleep in her bed (which was even more unthinkable).
My mother went on to say that I was extremely close to my third aunt when I was younger - there was an occasion as a toddler when I wouldn't stop fussing during dinner, and calmed down only when I was laid on her bed to sleep - and told me how I would always sit beside my aunt when she came back from work to watch her and chatter away while she ate her dinner. This seems normal, but remember how I said she was a very quiet, very private person, and the funny thing was how she didn't like it when anyone disturbed her but allowed me to play around her and talk to her about the insignificant things that only children can go on and on about.
I had so many things I regretted with my third aunt's passing, such as allowing myself to be so easily influenced by the opinions of others when I should have been unbiased about something that wasn't supposed to affect me from the beginning - but what I regretted most was not telling her how much I loved her when I had the chance. I loved her, I adored her and I looked up to her so much, and that was why I struck back with such hatred when I did - I couldn't believe that the aunt I loved so much could have done such a horrible thing.
I wanted to talk to her after everything, but I was completely against visiting her church because of what they did to her - they might have helped her find God, but I couldn't forgive them for the things she did under their influence. I eventually remembered the church we used for her funeral, but I'm still hesitant to step inside because what do you say, at the end of all ends, to the person you have everything and nothing to say to?
Nothing, that's what you say.
I came across this fan-made picture when I was clicking around and my heart just melted - I'm a huge fan of the Zankyou no Terror anime series, and seeing all my babies together in one picture like this really made me happy.
101 Things I Think About: DAY 9
I wrote about my grandmother yesterday, so I think it's fitting to write about my third aunt today. It's been a year since she passed away - my grandmother passed away on the 28th of April, and my third aunt passed away on the 25th of April the year after.
I was closest to my grandmother and third aunt (I'm only talking about extended family here, so I'll not mention my mother), but a family feud between my mother and her sisters meant that battle lines were drawn and sides were taken, and we didn't come into contact with my second or third aunt for years after that.
I didn't know the whole story because I was quite young when it happened (which meant that no one would tell me anything), so all I knew was that my second and third aunt had done something really bad, which was the reason for not visiting them any more. I didn't feel much about not visiting my second aunt and cousin because we were on good terms but not as close as I felt to my third aunt - not being able to visit her hurt the most.
It was a mess of conflicting emotions when we ran into my third aunt at the nursing home (remember my grandmother had to be shifted into a nursing home because no one could take her in, especially after she became wheelchair-bound) because courtesy and good manners meant that I still greeted her, but the coldness that was displayed from both my mother and my aunt was jarring and confusing, and only served to re-emphasise the fact that my third aunt was supposed to be the bad guy here.
Small wonder that I eventually turned cold myself, and found myself at a loss for words whenever I saw her - what do you say to someone you used to be really close to, now that you find that you're not supposed to talk to them?
It hurt more when I remembered all the little things - my third aunt knew I read a lot as a child, so she used to get me book vouchers for my birthday and special occasions like Christmas. Nothing fancy, but they meant the world to me because she encouraged me to get books that I wanted, and they were essentially from her. Others gave me things like pretty dresses (which I loathed) and toys, but she gave me books - in this field, she understood me as well as my mother did, that I wanted and treasured books more than I did just about anything else.
My aunt was the chill person in the family, the one I ran to after I greeted my grandmother, the one I could talk to when I felt that I couldn't talk to my mother or anyone else. My aunt was the person who didn't particularly like it when anyone touched her, but allowed me to hug her because she doted on me.
What do you say to someone who used to understand you so well, now that you weren't supposed to talk to her? Nothing, that's what you say.
The years came and went, and we never spoke much besides the usual polite conversation to ask how she was doing with her work, what I was doing in school. The laughter, the jokes and the light-hearted conversation that used to flow so easily had all stopped.
I learned to hate - that was the worst thing of all now that I think about it. For no reason other than because I didn't know what was going on and followed what everyone else did, I ended up hating my third aunt for years, and struggling with not knowing why I hated her, but holding on to this hate regardless.
Even when my grandmother passed away, I didn't talk to her, instead choosing to stand aloof and stick to my mother. I was angry and bitter after my grandmother's passing, and when the news broke that my third aunt was sick with some kind of cancer, I said some things that I'm truly not proud of. We had to visit her more often afterwards, mostly to check up on her but also to chat and keep her company because she was struggling with her medications and chemotherapy.
I softened towards her in those few months, but the damage was already done - what were we supposed to say to fill the silence that had accumulated over years and years?
Nothing, that's what you say.
My third aunt was eventually hospitalised, and I remember the night very clearly - I had just gotten home after having dinner with Tsuki-kun (we were dating then) and my mother called to tell me that she and my eldest aunt were rushing to the hospital because something had happened to my third aunt, a relapse if I remember correctly. I freaked out, and told my mother that I wanted to take a cab down to the hospital because I wanted to see my third aunt, but my mother told me not to and to stay home - she would call me in case anything happened.
I called Tsuki-kun and cried - I told him I was so scared that she would leave without giving me the chance to apologise for how I'd treated her over the years and to tell her how much I loved her. It was mostly to comfort me (what else do you do if a girl is crying over the phone, honestly?), but he assured me that she would make it through the night, and I would be able to head down to the hospital first thing tomorrow and tell her all the things I'd only just told him. I believed him, mostly because I didn't have any other choice and couldn't go to the hospital, and also because I felt bad for inconveniencing him this way, and I thanked him for comforting me.
She didn't make it.
I suppose her funeral was about as normal as funerals tend to be, but my mother and I felt her presence in a thunderstorm on the first day - I don't really know how to explain it, but suffice to say that her post-mortem makeup was too thick and needed retouching, and she was a very private person who even in death didn't appreciate people gathering around her to watch the artist work. Her embarrassment and anger were so strong that I was genuinely afraid that someone might get injured that day.
She came back as a dragonfly on the second day, and stayed in the hall to watch her friends and colleagues who came to pay their respects.
I honestly thought the funeral was the hardest part of everything, but moving her stuff out of her house was just as bad - memories have a bad habit of sneaking up on you just when you think that they're quiet and dormant, and then you're completely unprepared for the onslaught of emotions that come. Case in point: I had to walk out of her room to get a hold of myself because I caught sight of a Teletubby doll that she still had.
I think Teletubbies are creepy as hell now, but I adored them as a child, and my third aunt and I had a doll each - I had Lala (the yellow one) and she had Po (the red one). I didn't know she still kept the doll with her, and everything I felt - guilt, regret, love, shame - became too much to take in that moment.
But the worst part of my aunt's passing were the stories that surfaced afterwards: Her church friends recognised me during the wake, and told me that she talked about me during their sessions - I had thought that she had forgotten all about me, or that she didn't care, and had allowed that to fuel my hate for her.
My mother told me how my aunt was very particular about her space and her room, and allowed absolutely no one into her room - even the dog was afraid of her, but for some reason I was allowed to enter her room as I liked, and talk to her while playing with the models on her desk (which was unthinkable) and sit on and sleep in her bed (which was even more unthinkable).
My mother went on to say that I was extremely close to my third aunt when I was younger - there was an occasion as a toddler when I wouldn't stop fussing during dinner, and calmed down only when I was laid on her bed to sleep - and told me how I would always sit beside my aunt when she came back from work to watch her and chatter away while she ate her dinner. This seems normal, but remember how I said she was a very quiet, very private person, and the funny thing was how she didn't like it when anyone disturbed her but allowed me to play around her and talk to her about the insignificant things that only children can go on and on about.
I had so many things I regretted with my third aunt's passing, such as allowing myself to be so easily influenced by the opinions of others when I should have been unbiased about something that wasn't supposed to affect me from the beginning - but what I regretted most was not telling her how much I loved her when I had the chance. I loved her, I adored her and I looked up to her so much, and that was why I struck back with such hatred when I did - I couldn't believe that the aunt I loved so much could have done such a horrible thing.
I wanted to talk to her after everything, but I was completely against visiting her church because of what they did to her - they might have helped her find God, but I couldn't forgive them for the things she did under their influence. I eventually remembered the church we used for her funeral, but I'm still hesitant to step inside because what do you say, at the end of all ends, to the person you have everything and nothing to say to?
Nothing, that's what you say.
An old picture of my third aunt and I when I was very young.
Please forgive me for the things I didn't know how to say to you.
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