Keith and Eva were the type of people you read about in books. Always proper with a beautiful house on the corner and a babbling brook in the backyard full of peonies and flowers to water. A nice deck where we would go outside and eat breakfast and sit and chat. Their view was amazing in Canada. My brother and I would go up their on many occasion not worrying about the four-hour long drive. Oh, how we loved them. Our relatives aren’t very close in this family except for Keith and Eva. Mom’s parents weren’t that great to her, or me for that matter and so I hardly spoke to them. Even though Keith and Eva were mom’s aunt and uncle they’d acted more like friends and parental figures when she was in need. They had a romantic start as they met while Eva was 17, Keith 18. Married all those years and Eva never even got her driver’s license because Keith drove her everywhere. I never wanted anything to taint my thought process of their love story. But it had to end at some point I suppose and Eva passed away. I loved her so much. She was even beautiful laying in the hospital bed well aware of what she was going through. She’d had a stroke sometime before and that ignited her downfall into today.
“What floor are we on?” She’d ask. “The 7th,” Keith responded. “Isn’t that the floor where people come in to die?” Was her response. We all looked at each other and then to Keith, because no one else wanted to answer that question. “Don’t worry about that now, eh?” Keith said as we all took a sigh of relief that he said anything. I brushed her salt and pepper hair as mom talked to her. She could only see out of her right eye, so I made sure to stand at that side. I stopped looking out the window to the mountains with the skiers flying down the hill. It was hard to look at Eva because I knew it would be the last time I saw her. I always thought I’d want time to say good-bye to someone if they were going to pass, but the heartache it brings with it can sometimes be unbearable. It’s like, you know doom is coming and you try to embrace it but it just multiplies in its terror and keeps rolling at you like a scene in Indiana Jones. The rock was plummeting to me as I’d try to run away but in this movie I can’t escape it.
“Andrea, Eva died today”…moments of silence are what ensue next. Eva was my Great Aunt with whom we were super close to. “Um, okay.” I flatly said. “I’ve got to go now, mom.” “Are you ok?” She asked me. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I said in return. Man, how my stomach turned inside out at the news. But I wasn’t going to cry, I thought. I couldn’t at work. But I should’ve. Holding these kinds of tears for this long is just so unhealthy. But at some point I feel like I’ve cried about everything else, so I must’ve grieved somewhere in there, right?