As is often with me, I got blindsided tonight with a sad little moment: on January 1st was the 5 year anniversary of my Aunt Jane’s death.
This realization didn’t hit me until I lay taking a bath this evening, relaxing, letting my body unwind from the physical regimen I’ve been putting it through as of late; it came quick, that wave of memories surrounding that day, the details you never knew existed until you replay the moments years down the line; the magnitude of it all. I lay there, awash with it all, and took pause. Pause for the chance to breathe in the grief, and then exhale the pain.
It may seem odd that it took four days for the memory of that day to come back to me, people might think. Surprisingly, that is fairly common for my brain. It will cover all memory of a powerful event from manifesting on the actual day in order to allow me to function as well as possible. Per usual, my brain than releases that pent up memory block when it feels I can handle it: generally while I’m showering or at the gym (followers of the blog have read my posts discussing these epiphany places.) And besides the moment where I took my pauses, I handled it all. Thankfully.
What seems so incomprehensible is that it has only been five years since her passing. In terms of years, that is fairly short. Yet, in terms of my life and who I am five years down the road from that moment, five years is a life time. My Aunt’s passing was a catalyst for a turn of for the worse in certain aspects of my life, reigniting my festering depression at the time, and reinforced certain painful truths about my family. That all encompassing moment, coupled with many long standing issues, took nearly five years to cope with. To look back and see the dark personal war I survived, and see the person I am now because of it, five years seems so much longer than I can imagine. Making a five year anniversary seem so pivotal and final in some way.
This isn’t a morbid or sad post; or at least, it’s not intended to be one. Tonight, when I remembered all of that darkness, I remembered one of the most beautiful memories I have of my Aunt. My brother and I were visiting her in LA, and we would always go to Redondo Beach to bask in the glorious Southern California sun. The sun was hot that day, yet the water was refreshing and desperately cooling. My Aunt and I were both wearing homemade tie-dye t-shirts we had made a few previous, me with neon pink swim trunks (it was the late 80’s, I make no apologies). To beat the heat, my Aunt taught me how to boogie board that day, even though I was too young in my parent’s eyes to boogie board. I was so scared, at first. But she stayed out in the water with me, not far out of course, and let me know it would be alright, even if I didn’t ride the wave. I finally caught a wave, rode it in…and smashed spectacularly into the beach, upending myself. Sand all over me, I got up and she gave me a hug for trying, even if I did crash in the end. I didn’t boogie board the rest of the day, but I remember that awesome feeling of love she had for me. It isn’t life altering nor profound or even particularly picture perfect happy. Yet, it’s one of my favorite memories of her.
Fortunately, I have these good memories of her still with me. And though I haven’t done so in a long time, I did end up being a fan of boogie boarding. Thanks to her.
So, to Mildred Jane Waychus: may your loving soul continue to shine unto eternity, as it always has, even though you have departed this world many years ago. I love you and miss you always. God bless you my dear Aunt.
So, with that bittersweet and melancholy post, I’m to sleep. Goodnight, y’all.
Much Love,
K.E>
