I have been having a lot of experience with death within the last few years. More than I care to think about.
An aunt died in South Texas. Some may point to old age, but really it was the late discovery of a mass of malignant cells in her abdomen. She was the matriarch of my mother's extended family. Her husband and the patriarch only left us last week. It is lovely to think that he finally joined her wherever she is. But that would be romanticizing, though comforting.
An uncle died of old age and the subsequent family reunion at the funeral had me meeting extended family and realizing some strange connections. It is a little offputting to see what brings people together.
Another two uncles died of illness on my father’s side of the family. One from liver failure and the decision to not proceed with treatment, dialysis. I'm sure it was more complicated, but this was the only information given. The other fell to cancer. I remember both of them fondly. Growing up they each informed some part of my upbringing, even if they were a bit astranged.
The cancer of the latter was a bit of foreshadowing to what was to come with my father. He fought a hard battle with pancreatic cancer, but ultimately lost the battle with a bout of Covid. That was truly saddening because of its effects on our family. My niece lost her Pop Pop. Her brother will not remember him like she does.
Earlier this year, before I went to Puebla, we learned of the death of a young man I grew up with. He died in Guatemala where he settled. The death was ruled a suicide by local officials. That was difficult because of the father’s resounding sentiment of the event. “No hay justicia en Guatemala.” There is no justice in Guatemala, calling to mind the reasons he brought his family to the States.
This week, a cousin who I grew up with completed suicide. He wasn’t even 30 yet. At his grandfather’s funeral, we reconnected after years of relative silence. He was there with his girlfriend and they seemed to have a good dynamic where they motivated each other to do better for themselves. It was nice to see that drive of which is often lacking in my family. I remember he was a sweet person. Not at all presumptuous or arrogant in manner. He seemed to be genuine and well mannered. It is very sad to think this kid I remember being in diapers is gone.
But what is there to do? Ultimately, these deaths are not about me. And that is ok.
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