Today brought the sad news that my auntie Eva didn’t make it. They turned off the life support system early this afternoon after she suffered more bleeding on the brain.
It’s hard to take in. She was 60 and in good health. At 2pm on Wednesday she was putting the shopping into the boot of the car at Retail World, half an hour later she was heavily sedated in intensive care and 48 hours later she’s dead. I still can’t really believe it. There’s supposed to be an order to these things. First my dad’s elder brother, who’s been claiming he’s dying for the past ten years, should have gone. Then it should have been my dad’s turn. Only then, many years later would it have been Eva’s turn. I was expecting her to be with me at my dad’s funeral.
She leaves a huge hole in the family. Many years ago, my uncle Alf died. Things were never the same afterwards. Some people form the hub of a family. They’re the person who brings everyone together. The centrifugal force that attracts everyone else. When they’re not around any more the family drifts apart, there’s no more get-togethers, no more outings, no more parties. Uncle Alf was that person on my mother’s side of the family, and auntie Eva on my dad’s side.
They were a close family. She’d been happily married to my uncle for more than 40 years. Her kids, my cousins, never moved very far from home. The multitude of grandchildren treated her house as their own. And her and her brother, my dad, always kept in touch. I’m sad my aunt has died, but I’m vastly more sad about the pain my uncle and the girls must be in, not to mention my dad who’s lost a beloved sister.
It’s just too too sad. I’m sure Eva has already made herself comfortable on a pink fluffy cloud somewhere, but I wish the rest of the family the strength to get through this.