Over the weekend, a non-fiction piece that I wrote was published in Intima: A Journal of Narrative Medicine. I wrote about grieving for my Aunt Trudy. Specifically, the complicated relationship that we had in her final years and reconciling those final memories, with my memories of a doting aunt who was vibrant, fun, and loving.

Just before Christmas in 2013, Aunt Trudy passed away after suffering organ failure following a back surgery. Her surgery seemed to have gone well and it was a surprise to everyone, including her doctors, that she didn’t recover. I suppose some of it shouldn’t have been a surprise, as her husband, the love of her life, my Uncle Larry, passed away earlier the same year. She was heartbroken, lonely, and due to her own medical issues, in a ton of pain.

Although my aunt was certainly my uncle’s primary care taker, I stepped in to help during the last years of their lives. I’d be remiss if I didn’t also mention all of the wonderful friends who helped me. My aunt and uncle never had children, but they certainly had a tight-knit group of friends and I’m so grateful for them.

I was living part-time at their house in Orange County and towards the end, I even moved my cats into their home with the intention of living with them full-time. Fate intervened and I met Dan, my now husband, in early 2012. Although I spent more days at their house, I moved in with Dan instead.

Unfortunately, this increased the tension I felt with my aunt, especially after my uncle died. I believe that she liked Dan and was happy for us, but it also took me away from her. We fought and we were hurtful towards each other. It wasn’t just about my new relationship, but also how my relationship changed with her. Aunt Trudy was a strong personality and she didn’t like relying on anyone. She was a natural caregiver. Our roles reversed and this was challenging.

As much as I tried to avoid it, occasionally I found myself acting like a parent and she the child. We have a small family and outside of distant relatives that I don’t even know, it was just us left. Compounding the problem we’re her pain pills. She had an accident in 2010, where she suddenly snapped her femur and it required emergency surgery. The surgery to implant a rod in her leg was unsuccessful and it required a second surgery, followed by multiple back and neck surgeries. It was really horrible for her and I don’t deny that she needed heavy doses of pain medication. However, that medication changed her personality. It made her angry and edgy.

During my time at the UCLA Extension Writer’s Program, I wrote about these feelings in my essay, Weight. I’ve sat on this essay since 2014 and I finally decided that I was ready to send it out into the world. I was thrilled when Intima: A Journal of Narrative Medicine wanted to publish it.

I have to confess that my excitement was tempered by the fear that some of my aunt’s friends might read Weight and find it too personal. I wrote my essay from a place of both love and truth, but it was also uncomfortable to admit some of those truths. Luckily, I’ve received messages of support from many of her close friends and now my fears have been replaced with pride.

I’m going to close with a few pictures of my gorgeous Aunt Trudy. She was stylish, witty, and charming. She was generous with a big heart. It still hurts to know that her last years were filled with emotional and physical pain, but none of that can diminish her vibrant life.

and finally…a picture of my aunt and I in Chicago.