Saying Goodbye


“Saying Goodbye”

“It’s okay to cry, I mean your grandmother just got diagnosed with cancer.” My aunt said through her tears in a disturbed, almost sarcastic tone. She can sense that I’m unmoved and looked me over with wide eyes. “I know, I’m just in shock right now, you know?” I replied quickly with enthusiastic assurance. I think that was a convincing delivery, yet she’s still looking at me with confusion. I turn my head towards the window of her hunter green jeep and exhale me Marlboro 27. I want to cry. I want to show my aunt that this hurts, to receive the fatal news of my grandmother’s demise. Despite that, I cannot. My eyes are as dry as the Sahara Desert, and my heart beats its usual rhythm. What’s wrong with me? Have I become emotionally detached? My family was always a little dysfunctional. Our mini family consisted of my mom, my brother Jeff and my youngest brother Joey. My brother Jeff and I share the same father, and Joey has a different one. Joey’s father is M.I.A. while me and Jeff’s passed away when I was 11 and he was 9. These factors evolved my mother into a sadder person, while forcing me to pick up additional maternal roles with my younger brothers. After my father’s funeral, we saw less and less of my dad’s side of the family. They had become too preoccupied with their lives to involve us. We would only have contact if we made the first initiative, if we called them or visited them. It was a one way street we eventually stopped going down. Brenda, my nana on my mom’s side, always brought our family together. On Thanksgiving we all meet up at my aunt’s house. She would instruct everybody on what to bring. I was usually in charge of deserts which I loved. There we would come together and for at least the day we would put aside any arguments and feast and enjoy each other’s company. We would have light chat at the dinner table, but the more interesting conversations happened afterwards when we were all out...
tracking img