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Death and Dying.

Talking about death is generally not easy.  My ex’s aunt is dying.  Apparently she’s been dying for 5 years and no one, including herself, knew.  At the beginning of November she was diagnosed with Stage 4 Cancer… don’t ask what kind.  Because I don’t know.  I’m guessing lung cancer (this is a good time for me to seriously consider quitting smoking, and although I don’t smoke much, it’s still a good idea).  Anyway, the first time I saw Aunt D when she first became ill, she was weak and sleeping all the time.  The next time she couldn’t walk in a straight line.  I made sure (or someone made sure) to walk with her if she got up from her recliner because she would turn left without knowing it and keep walking towards the left.  Between the left-faces and weakness, she was surely gonna faceplant into a wall or the floor.  The next time I saw Aunt D she was in the hospital.  She had lost most of her hair.  She was so very thin.  Aunt D was mostly alert and interacted with others.  The next time I saw Aunt D she had been moved to the hospice care unit. She was awake sometimes, but sleeping most of the time.  She didn’t want anything to eat and she kept trying to take her oxygen mask off.  She didn’t talk much, but she enjoyed having people hold her hand and read to her from her Bible.  Today was probably my last visit with Aunt D.  She slept the entire time.  I could sense her breaths becoming further and further apart.

When a loved one is dying, I can’t help but remember the good times.  Isn’t that what death is about in some ways? Reflection?  I remember Aunt D’s long, flowing hair.  Her bright smile and cute laugh.  She loves(d?) to cross stitch various things and was always doing something crafty.  While she could be bossy, she enjoyed the company of others.  (I can’t figure out if I’m supposed to use past or present tense…)

Every time my phone rings from either my ex or one of his family members calling, I have a mini anxiety attack… You know that tingly feeling that starts at the top of your chest and plummets to your stomach?  That.  There’s really no reason to fear death because it’s natural.  And I don’t fear death because I have been saved through grace…  Still, it’s sad and hard and not easy to hear that someone you love is no longer here…

I feel like I have no train of thought…

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Waiting. Received. Accepted.

My alarm went off at 6am, as usual.  I hit snooze, as usual.  I got up before the snooze alarm went off.  I went to the bathroom to do my normal morning stuff.  Took a shower and then sat on the couch, cuddling with the doggy for a few minutes.  I got up to get dressed and that is when my morning started going downhill.

My nose started bleeding as I was looking for clothes to wear – not that I don’t have clothes to wear, I just couldn’t find the one shirt I wanted.  So, I grabbed a tissue from my nightstand.  I knew I was making too much noise when my boyfriend rolled over and let out a frustrated moan.  I tried to make less noise.  I’m not sure if I succeeded on the noise reduction.

Because I was having issues finding clothing that was both casual and work-appropriate, I ended up having to turn on the light, at which point my boyfriend let out an exasperated sigh.  I quickly grabbed clothes from the dresser and closet, turned out the lights, and headed to the living room in order to get dressed.

While dressing I hear my boyfriend’s alarm go off (which I thought he had forgotten to un-set the day before as I was unaware that he had to work today) which sounds like a pissed off Aunt Jemima yelling at her lazy-ass son: “Get your ass outta bed! Get up! Get up! You got stuff to do today! Get up! Get your ass outta bed!” etc.  After I finished getting dressed I hurried outside with the dog.  I needed a cigarette before facing my boyfriend, knowing he was not going to be happy about being woken up before he was actually supposed to be getting up.

As I came inside, my boyfriend was stretching in the doorway.  He informed me that he indeed did have to work today and seemed irritated that I had not remembered him mentioning said work the previous day.  I recalled him saying that he was unsure if he had to work, but did not recall any confirmation about work being mandated.

My boyfriend went outside for his I’m-awake-and-pissed-at-the-world morning cigarette.  I gathered my things, went out back to say goodbye and he’s taking a piss.  Really.  Honey.  C’mon.  Look, I don’t care if he wants to pee outside.  But it’s freaking cold this morning!  Haha.  His reaction when I stepped outside was, “Damn it woman. What do you want?!”

“Just to say goodbye.”
“Well, goodbye.” He kissed me.

I turned quickly and headed back in before the scrunched up you-hurt-my-feelings face and tears appeared.  I cried through the laundry room, up the stairs, out the front door, and into my car.  I took a deep breath and told myself, “he’s so not a morning person.”

Waiting.

I decided to wait for an apology before texting/calling him at all today.  I waited about 40 minutes before he text me.

Received.

“Sorry dear. Woke up mad. Love u.”  (I secretly hate ‘u’ when one is expressing love.)

Accepted.

“I’m sorry that I woke you up. I know you’re not really a morning person. Lol. Love you. :-)”  (I was immediately my jovial self as soon as I saw that text.  I then went on to explain the nosebleed and clothing issue and blah, blah, blah.

So, all is well in my world again.  I’m so thankful that he realized that he messed up and was more abrasive than need be.  So thankful that he apologized on his own, in his own time, and in his own way.

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