an account of my aunt's passing

Exactly a week ago today my aunt passed away. This was the first time a close person to me left this life forever. I was there just as the digital clock marked 11:45pm in the living room when the time came. I was in the kitchen where my two cousins, one my aunt's only daughter, the other almost a sister, talked about wine. She mentioned she needed a glass, she could even use an entire bottle. In the living room, my aunt breathed her last breath. My father ran into the kitchen to call my aunt's only daughter: "Ya esta, se murio" , he said. That was all. Her suffering was over, but we were left devastated. I began to cry, my father wailed. If men aren't suppose to cry, that day my father defied the norms. I tried to counsel him, but he ran to the other room to call my mother. Sadness filled the room evoking tears in many of us.

My father came back to hug Julia, my aunt's oldest friend, a fine example of friendship. She had been at my aunt's side for three weeks, 24 hours a day. Helping her use the bathroom, making her frozen popsicles, because that's all my aunt could eat. Julia cooked and cleaned for the household, as if it were her own. She was the angel that God had sent to calm the sadness boiling over in living room where my aunt spent her final weeks.

Luna, the house dog, saluted us, with licks, attempting to lick off the sadness. Tears subsided and our faces became their own once again. The only evidence of our sorrow were our red noses and puffy eyes. We began to reason with life, with God telling ourselves she was in a better place even though Tia Zoila had left us forever.

Tia Zoila was the glue that held our family together. Every year, she practically forces us to have Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner. If a member of the family did not show up, we knew Tia Zoila would probably make them feel guilty for the coming months. No one wanted that, so we all went! She was a hard working woman, who found passion in traveling, cooking, and home decor. When she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer 11 years ago, it motivated her to start a bucket list. On that list she put Italy, Greece, Turkey and many other countries she wanted to visit. If nothing else, she wanted to take that these images with her when she left. And she did. My aunt left a legacy of strength, of love, of unity. It will be challenging to carry this legacy forward because she effortlessly worked three jobs, raised her only daughter, and somehow managed to connect with her family all over the world. Tia Zoila was the oldest of her siblings, and she had high expectations of them. I know she will be with us until we join her in heaven. Just before she passed, my mother asked if she was ready to experience the streets of gold, the magnificent promise God has for those who want it. My aunt raised her hand to heaven and nodded in approval. She was ready.