My Aunt Patsy Jo died a few hours ago. She's a thousand miles away from me like most of my family. Patsy Jo is my mothers younger sister. My mother called and left a me message on my cell phone crying. She lost a sister last year too. It's a very difficult time for her. I have rarely heard my mother cry. I think this is only the fourth time in my life. I missed her call because I was carrying a hot pot of lamb stew to my car, I was taking it to my sister Jill. Before I make it to the parking lot of my apartment complex my brother Pete (he informs me of Patsy's death) and my sister Gina call. Gina is crying. I don't feel anything, I'm numb. Patsy has been battling cancer for over a year this is expected. I'm the strong one. I get to Jill apartment (which is only five minutes away) and she's crying. I have dinner with her and wash the dishes. I'm strong and there to comfort her, all we have is each other in Florida.

I get back home and now I'm alone with my thoughts. My memories of a very special woman that I have known all of my life. The memories are quiet and sneaky like an ally cat; purring to life in my psyche. One by one they creep in uninvited. I can't think about her right now. I'm the strong one, I'm a christian and we're suppose to rejoice when someone dies. I don't feel like celebrating. Every selfish motive and thought that I possess comes out of hiding and run through my heart as the tears run down my face. I want my aunt here with me for when I need her again. I don't want her in a better place. I find no comfort in that.I want to hear her laughter and look in her face. No, of course I didn't want her to continue to suffer, I wanted her to get better. I wanted her to beat cancer's ass.

When I was two and three years old I had a small problem with streaking (I used to like to do it). My aunt who lived a on the same block as we did would walk behind me picking up my clothes, protecting me but allowing me to be me. My mother would ask her why didn't she put my clothes back on me. She always said she didn't see the point I was on my way home. I remember her wedding day, and what a beautiful bride she was surrounded by her beautiful sisters; her brides maids. A year later she came to our house and announced that she killed the rabbit and my mother hugged her and I asked her why would killing a rabbit make her happy(I thought it was pretty vicious myself) She had to explain to me that she was having a baby. As I got older I used to babysit for her and spend the night. Her husband used to make me giant pancakes in the morning.They would be as large as the cast iron skillet he used. As a teenager I almost lost my virginity on her couch( I stopped him before it happened). I told her about it that next morning,she was the only grow-up in then family that I could tell the struggles of my new and strange desires. I was a girl and I was a woman. She advised me not to rush myself to stay focused in school, but if I didn't think I couldn't control it to tell my mother so I could get on birth control. I wish I would have taken some of her advised...any of it.

I went home twice last summer. The first time I only stayed for six days. I went looking for her every day. She was never home. I missed her on that trip. My mother went with her to her chemotherapy sessions and was amazed at her cheerfulness. Her spirits were always so high the doctor thought she could beat cancer even though it looked bleak. I went home the second time last summer after my health problems started. I got in home in time for our annual family reunion (I missed the last five). Patsy was there with some of the other older women in the family. Waiting to hold me. I had just had a defibrillator put in my chest. They were worried about me and I could see it in there eyes. I told them not to worry I now have a "Heart that can't be broken." She hugged me and said "That's right baby," but my heart can be broken, because it's broken right now. I'm sure she knew my heart would probably break again she just wanted me to remember to find the good in every situation. She did.

I have cried for the last four hours. I was seeking good in losing her but the good isn't in losing her it's in loving her and having had her in my life. It's the memory of her laughter, in her love for life and the courage she showed facing death. We had a heart to heart after the family reunion. She had no regrets, bitterness or anger. She encouraged me, she loved on me. She was still walking behind me picking up my clothes.

She's gone...

I miss her.