My Aunt Kiki has died.

[helen99]

Yesterday I went to visit a very ill relative for the last time. My aunt Kiki, my mom's favorite sister, was diagnosed with cancer about 17 years ago - she'd been in successful remission until this year, when the disease decided to stage its grande finale. I had expected it to be bad, but it was still a shock to see her - she'd gone from about 140 pounds down to about 80, and was too weak to hold a spoon, almost too weak to speak. I sat with her from early morning until about 2:00 that afternoon, when she fell asleep and others were there with her. I went home. Next morning mom called and said she'd died. She was 85 years old.

I had never seen illness and death that close before. My dad was bad off, but could still move around the last time I saw him. He needed considerable help, which we gave him, but he was still up. I had never seen what cancer could do if it got out of control (my dad's had always been beaten back on time, and he ended up going from other causes).

I'd never seen someone starve to death. There is nothing quite as horrifying as seeing someone starving to death with nothing that can be done for them. I think I'll have her face burned in my memory for good. I'm worried about my mom. She lost my dad last year, and now her favorite sister, who she took care of when they were kids, and who would always come over every week to visit with her and play scrabble. I don't think Jason and I can really fill in for those folks - they had an understanding based in a sense of duty and compassion for each other that I never possessed.

They were cared for and loved until the end, and they had wonderfully abundant pensions, and they deserved it all. One by one, they're going away, and the world is left to us. I feel chilled.