Eight years ago today (February 1st, 1999) I lost my second mother to lung cancer. My aunt, who had been the closest thing to a mother I ever knew, wasn't sick for long. Her demise was swift, a reward perhaps because she had been such a good individual. She did not suffer much, I believe.
Good natured, loving, nurturing and intelligent, my aunt always had a word to encourage me, she provided me with emotional, financial, even logistical support (I will never forget how she'd have all my dressy clothes ready to go out while I was in high school). I am who I am largely because of her.
She drove me to class, made me breakfast whenever I stayed at her place, and she was always with me and my brothers in good and bad times. I have never recovered from losing her, quite frankly. Since 1999, usually the last week of January and the first week of February are horrible for me. I have learned to cope with losing her, but I have never fully recovered.
Tia, thank you for making me who I am... wherever you are, I will always have you in my heart.
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