Then, my aunt couldn't breathe.
I was already driving home, blasting Lecrae as I tried to mentally prepare myself to stuff my gut at Denny's, when I thought to turn the ringer back on my cell phone. In doing so, I saw that I'd missed two phone calls. One of them, from my other aunt (who will be known as Amira), which was not uncommon. But the other was from a young woman at my church. This young lady and I have sent texts to each other; but I thought it unusual that she'd called me. Something didn't feel right.
I first called Amira. "B. just had to rush Auntie Hal to the hospital. She said she couldn't breathe." I'd noticed a sudden dramatic change in Auntie Halima's breathing, but I didn't realize it was serious enough for a trip to the ER. "We're all headed there; so meet us at the hospital." I told her that I'd first swing by the house to pick up some clothes and things that I knew would be necessary for a hospital visit. They always need a list of medications; but since I'd never gotten around to actually writing it out, I just dumped them all into a Publix bag when I got home. I neatly folded some undies and threw in some deodorants as well. Amira rang me again as I pulled out onto a main street with Auntie Halima's things in tow. I knew Amira was going to tell me to hurry up and get my behind to the hospital. But instead, she surprised me. "Hey, little lady. Where are you?" Her voice sounded as if her lung tissue had taken on the properties of rice paper. There was a shallow and hollow sound to her voice, completely opposite of the life-filled one vocals I was expecting. I calmly told her that I was on my way and driving. But my heart started to feel as if it thought is was a drum pedal, and my chest a bass drum.
"Ok, well when you get here, tell them that you're with the Mayer family." Typically, that's the kind of statement you make when entering a restaurant, not an ER.
"We're in the quiet room." Red flags were waving. My mind instantly went back to the place we cried when my grandmother died. I felt sick. "They'll show you where to go."
I was quiet for the ride to the hospital, though Lecrae continued to blast. My trembling hands collected Auntie's things, including her purse, my purse, and somebody's jacket. When I stepped up to the front desk, I looked more as if I'd been Christmas shopping or traveling than coming from church less than an hour before. He told me how to get to my family, telling me to press the white button so that he could buzz me in when I got to the correct door. and when I looked through the door's little glass windows, I forgot all about pressing a white button. People were crying, people I knew who I'd just seen at church. They were consoling and comforting one another. Amira saw me and was making her way to me, her eyes red, he face flushed. By the time someone finally buzzed me, I was trembling, all the bags rattling in my hands. "Baby," she said, "Auntie Hal didn't make it."
I remember dropping everything to the floor and kind of melting. I remember my face crumpling in a way similar to a soda can being crushed. I remember screaming with hurt and pounding on the wall in absolute rage. I was so angry. My precious aunt, whom I'd just hugged a short while ago, was dead. Someone grabbed me to cushion me from myself, and I remember flailing and screaming for them to get the Hell off of me. I remember more pounding on the walls, asking where the body was, and hugging one security guard while trying not to go completely off on another one.
Her body was already cooling. I'd touched that body, warm and full of love a few hours before as I massaged her arthritic arms and legs. It had been difficult for both of us. For me, it was frustrating to see her in such a condition, this woman who had always been so much fun and so full of life since I could remember. For her, the pain was practically unbearable. I often told her that I was happy to be able to do things for her because it meant that she had someone who loved her that was caring for her instead of someone who might view it as a burden. I'd told her that so many times when she would humbly thank me for whatever it was I had done. Now I could only place my head on her cooling chest and weep.
***
This past Saturday, we buried Auntie Halima in a beautiful white casket. The beginning of the funeral included the viewing of the body, and I found it quite a test of both my faith and endurance. But by the end of the service, everyone had been reminded of God's goodness and felt his loving and comforting embrace. I felt a peace that defies understanding.
At the burial site, the young speaker for Lewis Ray Mortuary surprised us when he began talking about birds. Eventually, he told us about doves. They always find their way home. My aunt had found her way home. With that, they released three beautiful white doves. They flew over us, over the burial site, unaware of the profound illustration they'd just made.
***
Life is going to surprise you. Sometimes, these surprises are going to be the most heart-wrenching events you could imagine. But sometimes, the surprises will be exactly what you need. So get ready. There are some unopened experiences that await you.
No comments:
Post a Comment