Here’s to Letting Go

I wrote this last year and I think I shared it with you, but I never put it up and claimed it as mine. I really like it, and I think I'm ready to be out with it. So here goes.



I cried for an entire day yesterday. A morning of sobs, an afternoon of deep breathing. It was my aunt’s birthday. She died of cancer 11 years ago.

I was twelve, I think. We were at my aunt’s house; we had been coming over increasingly this summer. My mother knew we didn’t have much time. I was playing Lincoln logs with my sister and three cousins. My mother came in. We knew before she said it. Her face told us without a word, “She’s gone”. My cousins ran and clung to her, their mother’s sister. My sister got up in slow motion. The five of them left the room, crying together. And I smiled. I laughed. I couldn’t stifle my giggling. I was horrified.

I ran to the bathroom, making sure no one saw me. I should be in there, crying with my family. Not watching this caricature smile in the mirror. I felt awful. I repeated to myself, “You are sad. This is a sad situation. This is not a proper reaction. She is gone.” Gradually, I was able to wipe the smile from my face. I checked the mirror, just to make sure the frown was real. It wasn’t a frown, it was blank. Close enough. I crept down the hall into her room.

She was very pale. She looked soft. Everyone was crying and holding each other. My uncle was making phone calls, informing the relatives. And I was blank faced, looking at the scene unfold. I played sad pictures in my head, anything sad I could think of, just to get myself to cry, to appear normal. And I did cry. And I kept on crying today.

This was one of my most secret of secrets. If I told anyone, it would be in a reverent whisper. And that person would shrug and say, weird or huh. I’ve lived for years thinking I am a terrible person who enjoys death. I’ve felt so guilty about it. It is one of the worst things I have ever done. Until yesterday.

I cried and cried when I read my mother’s blog about her sister. I thought of my sister, and I can’t imagine losing her. My cousins, without their mother. And I cried some more. I couldn’t stop, I felt so guilty for laughing when I should have been crying. So I spilled my guts to my mom.

She did not respond as I expected. She didn’t cry, she didn’t yell, she just said in her soothing, mom-voice, “It’s ok. It is normal. It’s a normal reaction. Lots of kids who can’t cope with realities of death have strange, out of place emotions.”

I don’t know if I am relieved. I still have a lingering sense of guilt. Why didn’t I find this out sooner? It has been years of guilt-build-up and now it’s just ok? So what? You laughed at your aunt’s death, big deal? I don’t believe it. But I do feel better. My aunt wouldn’t have wanted me to brood about the past.

So here is to the future. To loved ones who never truly leave us. To letting go. And to spilling our guts.