Loss

Missing You Aunty on Your Birthday

DSC_0043I can’t believe you’re not here today on what would have been your birthday.  Two months have passed since you were suddenly taken from us and I still can’t really believe it.  My funny, caring, lovely aunty should still be around, bringing us joy every time we’d come together.

Like I said about my grandad, God obviously knew that it was your time to go and He has his reasons, but it doesn’t make it any easier.  Although death is inevitable for all of us, I never, ever expected that your life would be snatched away – definitely not at this time anyway.

I wanted to celebrate more family birthdays, family gatherings and of course, your birthdays, at your house.  I wanted to hear more of your stories, told in your unique way, in that husky voice I love so much.  I wanted to be able to see you rush around the kitchen, tell me what was in each dish and then sit down to eat your dinner once we all got our fill.  I wanted to be able to smile and laugh at all of the reading glasses you had scattered around, but now all I have is the memories.

Reminders of your birthday have popped up, and it makes me sad to think that I can’t send you a birthday message and look forward to your quirky reply back.  You used to say that the best people are born in August and you were definitely one of those.  It also makes me sad as I get closer to my birthday, because I know that I won’t have a message from you now.

I can’t believe that I have to get used to August without you too and it breaks my heart, but I feel so lucky to be able to say that I shared this month with Aunty Joce.  I miss having you around and I hope you know how much I loved you and appreciated the time we spent together.  You were the best and you’ve got also got a piece of my heart.  I love you always and forever.

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Missing You On Your Birthday

Dad in Jamaica 5It would have been your birthday today, making the loss of you all the more real.  I would have seen you at church today or called up the house to say, “Happy Birthday Grandad!” and hear you reply, “Thank you darling.”  It’s sad that I’m not able to hear your voice, see you smile or give you a hug.

I still miss you, each and everyday, feeling the hurt of knowing my grandad is no longer here.  Talking to mum and Rhianna today, we agreed that God knew that it was your time to go, but I can’t help wishing that you were still here.  I still wanted more time with you – time to hear more of your silly jokes, time to study Revelation, time to learn more about your childhood and your home of Jamaica.

I wanted more time to speak with you, as there are so many things I wish I could have said and so much more love I wish I could have shown.  Often when you come to mind, I wonder if you knew how much I loved you – I really hope you did.

August is now a little emptier without you, and I hate that.  We were part of the same club, celebrating our birthdays nine days apart, but Zane now has that day to himself.  There were many years when doctors and other individuals thought you wouldn’t be spending birthdays with us, but I never shared their doubts, so it comes as a surprise to me that I’m not telling you happy birthday this year.  You were such a fighter, I just didn’t imagine losing you.

I guess I’ll just have to get used to an August without you, no longer able to celebrate your birthday or have you around to celebrate mine.  However, I’m incredibly happy for all of the Augusts I did spend with you and all of the memories you gave me over the years.  I was very lucky to have you as my grandad and you still have a piece of my heart.  I love you always and forever.

I’ll Miss You Aunty

DSC_0043My family means the world to me, so losing any one of them is one of the hardest things in the world to deal with, especially when the loss is completely unexpected.  After losing my grandad back in March, I never imagined that I’d have to say a final goodbye to another one of my family members this year, but just under three months later, that is what happened.

Yesterday, I was shocked to the core to the learn of the death of my Aunty Joce.  With my grandad, I at least had some time to prepare for his death after witnessing his battle with illness, but with my aunty it came out of the blue.  I keep on replaying the moment I was told that she died over and over again, because it doesn’t seem real to me.  It’s like we’re all in a bad dream and I just want us to wake up out of it.  Now, all we have is memories.

Some of my most treasured memories with my Aunty Joce are from my childhood.  I loved going round to her maisonette nearby and sleeping over.  I remember sitting down to watch TV with her or reading Cinderella on her sofa.  I also liked when she would do my hair, as it would always look really pretty and extremely neat.  I’ll never forget the time she plaited my hair when my mum was a way, and then put the plaits into two bunches with my favourite hairbands.

My aunty later moved further away, so I saw her less than before, which made every event spent with her a priceless experience.  You could always count on her being the funny one – I know that family gatherings will be missing a lot of laughs without her.  Her quick wit and dry comments never failed to make me laugh, and watching her interact with my grandma was a hilarious source of entertainment.

I also enjoyed going to my aunty’s house, because she was so hospitable.  She always did what she could to ensure you were comfortable, whether that was through giving you a blanket or a pair of slippers.  If my Aunty Joce knew you were coming, she made sure there was food prepared and you would not be disappointed, because she was a real good cook – I used to love her delicious macaroni pie.  I’ll always remember her offering me and my sister a hot drink when we were at her house one evening and saying that we should have a decaf cappuccino she bought at the pound shop, because she thought that they were “very nice”, and you know what, she was right.

Of course, you can’t be hospitable without being caring, which my Aunty Joce was.  When she heard about my grandad, she ensured that she messaged me to show her support.  And when my dad broke his foot, she took the greatest care of him, which I will forever be grateful for.

My aunty also had a real sense of style.  It was great to see the different hats she wore and the different handbags she carried to match her outfits, but more than anything, it was about her reading glasses.  I recall being at my Aunty Joce’s house one day and her showing me and my sister the collection of reading glasses that she had.  When I commented that she had so many, she told me that it was so they could go with different outfits.  Green, purple, black – the glasses came in numerous colours, usually with diamantes on the sides or along the rim.  There was also this very compact pair, which I was amused and a little confused by, but she simply said that they were good for carrying in a small handbag.

My aunty was a gem who will be greatly missed, but she will always be in my heart and I am grateful for all of the memories I have.  I love you always and forever, Aunty Joce, and I hope to see you on that great day when Jesus comes again.  May you rest in peace.