I am missing home and family today; all that is dear to me feels too far away at the moment. A very much loved aunt is losing her battle with cancer and is not long for this world. I hold my breath when I check my Blackberry in the morning, waiting to see what the latest developments have been overnight. When I left to move here in July we spent quality time together and I told her how much I loved her, but I didn't say goodbye. On my last day in Canada, my birthday, I chose to spend it with her but couldn't, because I had contracted pneumonia and couldn't risk passing it on to her. My mother phoned to tell her as we drove away from the doctor's office, but I refused to speak to my aunt myself; I didn't want to say goodbye over the phone. And I wanted to believe that I would see her again.
Now, as we wonder whether it will be hours or days until she passes, I feel like I needed to tell her again how much I loved her and what a beautiful presence she was in my life, even over the phone, by email, by carrier pigeon, over and over, many many more times. I want her to be surrounded by echoes of I love you's from all of us, for them to be ringing in her ears as she leaves her pain behind. I hope she can hear me shouting it across the Atlantic.
My aunt has been determined to be extraordinary and beat the odds that have been stacked against her so unfairly. And she is an extraordinary person: she has lived her life encouraging others to be the best selves they can be, celebrating everyone for exactly who they are; I have witnessed her determination, and I wanted desperately to buy in. When she wasn't healthy enough to make our annual family exodus to Maui this year, we all smiled valiantly and said, "You'll be here next year." Over the months as I prepared to leave for London, and as my aunt became tinier and tinier, her will stronger and stronger, she said, "You know Dani, I've lived my life and done a lot of fabulous things. But I've never been to London. Some people with more time might want to see the sights, but I just want to come to see you, for us to go shopping at Harrods' and go to High Tea." She was so firm in her belief that she would see me here in London, that we would have this adventure. I haven't gone near Harrod's since I returned; I wanted to wait, to show it to her.
My aunt is surrounded by our family this afternoon and they will be by her side until the end. I am alone, too far away to give comfort to anyone, and grieving for this adventure we won't have together. I look out on these London streets and think, "this city doesn't know what it's missed out on."
I love you, Auntie Bev.