First Breath After Coma

Man, dying sucks.

I guess I need to rephrase that, since I’ve never died in my life. Having someone die that you know and love sucks. As a completely ill-timed aside, I find it comforting that I can still take on the same tone of voice when I blog, even in the wake of my great aunt’s passing. It lets me know that there’s already a part of me that can move on, even if there are other parts that are really sad and upset over this. As I type this, I’m sitting on the same bench behind New Hall that I sat at the last time I talked to my aunt. A few weeks ago. It’s been even longer than that since I saw her, and it was one of the last days before I left for school this year. I remember sitting outside with her, just taking in the sunlight and crisp air around us. It was a stillness that felt alive. Now, staring at the trees around me, it’s a stillness that feels…well, still. It’s like I’m suspended from just carrying on as if nothing happened. Which I suppose is normal. I dunno...I’ve never had to go through this, really. It sucks, and it will suck for most of this week I assume, and it will suck this weekend when I go home and see her one last time. It will suck to see my parents crying, and my grandparents crying, and my grandma Connie crying, and my sister crying. It sucks now just thinking about that happening.

I was going to name this post “Memorial,” after the Explosions in the Sky song, and obviously in reference to my aunt, and to remembering the life she had. But I believe that life is more than what it was. In fact…

“Life is divided into three terms - that which was, which is, and which will be. Let us learn from the past to profit by the present, and from the present to live better in the future.”

      -William Wordsworth

See? It’s right there. Life is approximately three times as much as what was. Life is that which is, and which will be. And as sad as it is to lose someone who I’ve come to love throughout my entire life, and who I’ve known to only do the same in return, I know that I’ll be okay, and that life goes on. There will always be a first breath.

Rest in peace, Auntie B. I love you and will always keep you with me.