Life, Loss, Leaving

Uncle left us last Thursday morning. Aunt called me about 6:30 a.m. to let me know that he was unconscious and slowly fading away. My other Auntie was on her way from a city an hour South of here. I told Aunt that I could handle everything up until this part, but I couldn’t not do this part. She said it was okay. Later on they told me how his doctor and the chaplain came up to spend some time with them. He officiated a small prayer service with them as Uncle was passing. I’m still not exactly sure why that comforts me, considering the sweeping changes I have made to my personal spiritual beliefs in the past few years. At least I know that the chaplain’s presence comforted my aunts and that is important to me. They told me how very peaceful it was, and that they felt he was eager and pleased to cross over, not frightened at all.

We’re having a short graveside service tomorrow. Brother arrived last Wednesday and got to spend the day with Uncle in the hospital. I’m really glad to have him here. I’m glad I did not tell him to come a day or two later like I was planning to. He would have missed Uncle’s last hours. It’s hard to relive my father’s death through my Uncle’s, and to have to face the facts about my family’s Muscular Dystrophy (which carries through females yet only affects males). It’s forcing me to think about my cousin, who is 35 years old but in the same state that my father was in at age 45. His heart is failing rapidly, he needs a heart transplant, and the likelihood of it happening any time soon is slim. I’m not close to my cousin by any means, but it is still distressing to think about how

this is what my sons will endure.

The sons that I might actually have one day, since my menstrual cycle decided to naturally restart, on its own without the help of drugs, for the first time in 6 years. Didn’t see that one coming and my inner angry feminist lesbian doesn’t want to accept the fact that it just might be due to all the extra time I’ve been spending within 5 feet of an XY male. I’ve thought about it and thought about it, and that’s the only explanation I can devise. I’ve been in better health than I am right now, so it can’t be my health. Or my weight, or the degree of sexual activity because all of those have been higher within the past 6 years.

I don’t think I’ve accepted Uncle being gone yet. I’m sure it will happen tomorrow. I’m awful at funerals. I weep bitterly even when I hardly knew the person who has gone ahead of us. Uncle had no wife or children, and I recently found out he had put me as one of his medical power of attorneys in his living will. He cared so much for me, but never found the words to say it. He taught me to play scrabble and had a special nickname for me, and his eyes always lit up when I came to visit. I think I was like a daughter to him in some way.

I should get back to my homework. It feels good to write about this.

Remind me to write about my healthy friendship with Dana, who will remain my housemate until just over a year after our separation. Our anniversary is coming and I don’t know what I shall do for it. I wish I could better articulate how I feel about it. We love each other so dearly and yet there are some major reasons why we simply don’t work together.

Remind me to write about my recent sewing projects! And about my small business, small being an understatement. And remind me to write about school, my future, and my boyfriend (<— weirdest thing I've ever said on this blog). How is it that I have a boyfriend and yet I'm deeply situated within dyke culture? I still don't understand it all. I'm just letting it happen. He's helping me keep track of homework and money and job applications. It sucks that I'm no good on my own, and I'm thankful he doesn't mind working with me to organize my life. He is a good man, and that, I hear, is hard to find.

Sorry there's not much queer femme, sexuality, smut, health education information or feminist critique around here. It's been so long, I know, but I do feel like I am returning to those things.

Love to you all.

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