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My aunt was going to turn 70 in May of 2019. She was a beautiful and kind soul. We would go out and get Starbucks and just talk. I would go to her house and she would offer me food every ten minutes. With her, I felt right at home. I felt like I belonged. She helped me improve my Spanish because she only spoke in Spanish. She would tell me jokes, that were often the same, yet funnier every time she said it. She was such a sweet, sweet angel.
My aunt had short curly hair. It was on the lighter side of brown, or as we would call it, cafe claro (light brown). Her voice was soft, her eyes were little. Her personality was very unique. I even can’t explain it with words.
I remember being in the hospital with her. The hospital was cold and dull looking, it smelled like medicine, and the feeling of being there felt off. I felt really uncomfortable, knowing she was a patient there. I sat by her side in her room and told her, “Todo va estar bien tía se lo prometo” (Everything will be fine aunt I promise). She then weakly responded “Si mija, dios me va a cuidar,” (Yes, God will take care of me) as she sat on her hospital bed trying to eat her lunch. Time flew by so fast I couldn’t keep track. The day for her surgery came so quick. My time with her ran through my hands like water.
I was only able to see her for a couple of minutes before her surgery, in the room where they were setting her up. I held her hand and told her, “Tia, se mira tan preciosa” (Aunty, you look so beautiful). She looked at me with the sweetest look in her eye and responded, “Gracias mija” (Thank you). They pulled me out of the room and transferred her into the surgery room.
I sat there with my family from 5:30 am to about 4 pm with a huge knot in my throat the whole time. I really tried to stay positive but on the inside I was worried sick. After sitting there for hours with my family, they called my cousin to let her know about the operation. They told her that it went excellent. I felt so relieved that my prayers were answered. She had 2 tumors in her head that were affecting her daily life badly. One was in the front of her head. That’s the one they took out during the operation. The second one was located in the back of her head. Out of reach, and was going to need radiation to get rid of it.
When my aunt came out of surgery, I saw her a couple of hours later so she had time to wake up from the anesthesia medication. When she woke up she was still a little fuzzy, her eyes were a bit droopy, but she could talk. I asked her, “Cómo se siente tía?” (How do you feel?) She weakly responded, “Me duele la cabeza, pero me siento bien” (My head hurts, but I feel fine). I noticed that she still wasn’t all there. She kept asking, “Ay, y mi pelo?” (Oh, and my hair?). I told her, “Tía, te lo quitaron para la cirugía” (It was taken away for the surgery). She looked distressed. I felt awful because she really did love her hair so much. They shaved half of it to get to the tumor.
When the nurse put a bigger needle in her arm so she can get more IV in her system, her right arm was already all bruised up from the needles she had before. At that moment, I just wanted to let go of all my tears that were building up. I could tell that she was in a lot of pain.
The same night, I slept at my cousin’s house in Downey. We wanted to stay close to the hospital. I remember being super stressed out. I felt really sick. I had my culmination going on around the same time, and I couldn’t contribute the way I wanted to. Culmination was a big project that was due before the semester ended. It was a big deal for me, and I felt lost and depressed. I didn’t show it, but I felt like I was digging myself into a hole, and it was getting deeper as time went by. I contributed with what I could and attended culmination. I wanted to cry during every second of it.
My aunt later had to attend physical therapy so they could help her walk again, and help her with the things she does on an everyday basis. I really thought she was getting better, but in reality, she was getting worse. She was developing walking pneumonia and she didn't even know it. It had been building up for a while, and none of us had a clue.
Around three weeks later, we got a call on Christmas morning. It was my cousin - my Tia’s daughter - she told my mom, “Queca, mi mama se puso muy mala y está en el hospital,’’ (Queca, my mom isn’t doing good and is in the hospital). That moment, we all knew what she meant. I could tell that in her voice she was holding something back. We found out that when my aunt had passed out in the car, she had already passed. They revived her, but she was unconscious.
My mom’s mouth was wide open for a couple of seconds. Then, I heard her cry like she’s never cried before.I could feel the pain and sorrow in her voice. I didn’t know what to do. I felt numb; my mind was everywhere my eyes felt dry until my tears came rushing in. I felt something that I hadn’t felt before in years. My brother broke down right by me. He dropped my phone and it hit my foot. I couldn’t stop crying at the fact that she was gone and was never going to come back. I looked down because I felt a stinging pain on my foot and my toe was gushing blood. I didn’t even notice at first. When the phone hit my toe and it had somehow cut it badly. I just wrapped it up and got ready to go to the hospital.
We immediately left to the hospital where my aunt was. I met up with my family there. They all looked worried and broken. My aunt was on life support. We were waiting for the rest of our family to get there. My head was pounding, my body was in pain. I felt so disoriented. When I went in to see her, her skin wasn’t the same color; she was pale. I knew she wasn’t with us anymore. We all felt so lost. We were very hurt. A time later after all of our family got here, they disconnected her. We all let out the worst of our cries. That same night, I went to sleep in my bed and cried all night.
I woke up the next morning my eyes puffy, my voice nearly gone. I felt very, very depressed. I cried every night for the rest of my break. When the day came to go back to school, it was hard. I held everything in. The only people that knew were my close friends. They helped me get through my classes. It was very hard to pay attention, but I tried - I truly did try.
To this day, I’m still full of sorrow that she’s gone, but I do know that she’s resting in heaven. No longer in pain, no longer suffering. I miss her so much, but what can I do. I’ll just stick by my family’s side and hope for the best.
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