My aunt died this Saturday, July 11th 2009.

She died because of lung cancer which had spread to multiple parts of her body, and Alzheimer’s disease. A few months back you may remember me posting a journal about her being sick. Well, you can’t read it now, because I’ve deleted it.

In summary, she was sick and my parents didn’t tell me until after she’d been moved from her home for quite some time. Needless to say, I was very upset. They told me not to cry, they disapproved of me crying because she was old and it was drawing close to her time.

Do you think I cared? She was my aunt- I loved her. She was a huge part of my childhood as she was always there when I went down to the country and I went to visit her. She was always around and a pleasure to talk to, though it got awkward because I’m a teen and she was in her late seventies early eighties.

I remember when I was little, we would be leaving the country after being there for two weeks, and my sister and I would run around last minute and collect wild flowers. My bundle went to my Aunt Hilda, and my sister’s went to my Aunt Margie. Both of my aunts loved it, or so I care to believe. We’d always give them a hug and a kiss- but we stopped that once we grew older. Even though we were older, I’d always bug my father: “We have to go say goodbye to the Thompson Clan.” And “We are popping in to say goodbye to Aunt Margie, right?” would always ring out in the car when we were about to leave Riviere-Du-Loup.

I can remember the nights we’d go out for ice cream, and then we’d always bypass our house and go straight to my aunts to spend the evening with the Clan. We’d watch TV, laugh about something that happened that day. It was always best with my older cousin’s there- they always made the most obscene jokes and didn’t even care that I was in the room.

I remember my dad and her telling stories of when my dad was known as “Billy” and he was young and reckless. Of the Bug and the times they’d get drunk on the beach. Of how Aunt Margie bailed them out of a potentially serious situation involving her brand new Pontiac Fire Bird. (For those of you that don’t know [link] is the Fire Bird model she most likely had).

I remember the times my parents and I would go, and I’d lie on the floor with her Golden Retriever, Heidi and listen to my Aunt’s stories. Or watch TV with her.

Every year at Easter, we’d drive down to the country despite the snow and open the house for the first time that season. To let it air a little, and to break off the Cabin Fever we’d all get from being inside all winter. Once we were done that, we’d drive to Quebec City and stop in at my Aunt’s winter house and spend a few hours there. We’d have dinner, play video games (My aunt loved video games), and just chit chat with her until it was time to split.

Her memory really did start going two years ago. But she was old and though I voiced my suspicions to my father, he brushed it off as just her age. He didn’t want to believe it. They tested and confirmed that she had Alzheimer’s, though my cousin was able to bypass it for a while. About half a year ago, my aunt was put in a care home. Her health slowly declined and the lung that had cancer was behind her heart- they couldn’t remove it. The last time we were in Ottawa (where she was in the home) we stopped by her daughter’s house, but never went to visit her. “It’s too hard to do” my father said on the way home. “I’m not ready to see her like that.”

We never went to see her. We never visited her, though I would have loved to see her, tell her I loved her, even though she wouldn’t remember me at all. I’m so ashamed that I didn’t spend more time with her when I could have. I preferred to go down to the beach on my own- do my own bloody thing. I didn’t spend time with her. I just let her sit there and watch TV by herself.

Though she is gone, and will be missed, I will always remember her. She will always be in my heart, as will all of my family when they are gone. At least she wasn’t in pain when she went, and one of her daughters was with her.

Surprisingly, there’s not much pain, and I’ve cried little for her. I keep telling myself that she’s in a better place now. Where her memory was returned to her, her cancer gone, and she’s with her husband that she lost over a decade ago.

And so, with love, I send my Aunt off. When we go to the grave side memorial next week, I’ll bring some flowers for her. Just like I used to. Only these will be grown for the purpose of giving to someone, and I won’t be seven.

Aunt Margie; I know you can’t read this, but I love you. I love you so much. I hope you’ve finally found peace.