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Feb. 2nd, 2026 06:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
greenstormI don't have a keyboard right now -- my old laptop died and another hasn't finished being acquired yet -- but my aunt Katherine is dead. She's the first person who took me to see live music, dressed up in pretty flowing clothing and sat on the grass listening to fiddles and choirs. She would have gone without accompaniment but she brought me with her as a... Twelve year old? Maybe younger?
She was always kind. Starting at her house was the only time I ever slept on a waterbed. She did things she loved, and she did things out of conscience and a morality I resonate with, and she had joy and community.
She was my dad's cousin and I wonder sometimes how the family could diverge so much.
She bought my pottery and used it and told me how much joy it brought her.
She never had an obligation to me and I never had an obligation to her, but we were in each other's lives a little and it brought joy, and her life helped show me what was possible.
She was a real person and a wonderful one, and she's died how she wanted, with her loved ones around her, and I feel this huge grief. Not for her, but for myself. I'm lucky to have known her.
And some part of me, honed my whole life and that I thought was gone sauce the PMDD meds worked, looks at my grief and marvels that it feels just the same. This real, legitimate grief feels just the same as I felt every month for my adolescent and adult life. It's been awhile but the feeling still flips the observer on in my mind and evaluates. The grief can never go, of course, it can just be recorded as more information. And that information is that I miss my aunt very much.
She was always kind. Starting at her house was the only time I ever slept on a waterbed. She did things she loved, and she did things out of conscience and a morality I resonate with, and she had joy and community.
She was my dad's cousin and I wonder sometimes how the family could diverge so much.
She bought my pottery and used it and told me how much joy it brought her.
She never had an obligation to me and I never had an obligation to her, but we were in each other's lives a little and it brought joy, and her life helped show me what was possible.
She was a real person and a wonderful one, and she's died how she wanted, with her loved ones around her, and I feel this huge grief. Not for her, but for myself. I'm lucky to have known her.
And some part of me, honed my whole life and that I thought was gone sauce the PMDD meds worked, looks at my grief and marvels that it feels just the same. This real, legitimate grief feels just the same as I felt every month for my adolescent and adult life. It's been awhile but the feeling still flips the observer on in my mind and evaluates. The grief can never go, of course, it can just be recorded as more information. And that information is that I miss my aunt very much.
