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Dear Aunt: You Weren’t Supposed to Die So Soon.
It happened so quickly.
You died suddenly yesterday in your wife’s arms, at home, as it should be. Everyone thought you would live a few months more, or even a year. So we could come and see you one last time. I’m looking through your Facebook feed and I see your warm smile, pictures of you with your wife, your cats, your dog, your hockey team, your camping trips.
It was a shock when you suddenly went to the hospital this summer. You were watching a hockey game with your wife, and you suddenly became unresponsive. She called 911 and you lay in a drug-induced coma for a couple of weeks to stop you from having constant seizures. When the tests were done, the diagnosis was devastating: a malignant brain tumour. But when you finally regained consciousness, you seemed like your old self, funny and sweet. We thought we might be able to celebrate your sixtieth birthday next April. But the powers that be decided that you would only live 59 years on this earth.
You were always active and full of life. A natural athlete.
We grew up together. You were my father’s youngest sister, born when my grandmother was 48 and seemingly past childbearing. She didn’t even know she was pregnant until six months. You were two months older than my younger sister.
