In remembrance...

Today and tomorrow mark the 1 year anniversary of my cousin's death. This past January I wrote about it on this blog, explaining my absence from blogging for the period of October 22, 2006 to January 12, 2007.

I say that today and tomorrow mark the first anniversary of her death for two reasons. First, she died on the 22nd of October of last year, hence tomorrow will be a year to the date. However, last year the 22nd fell on a Sunday, a day much like today, so in that sense, today also marks a year since her death. As I wrote last year, her death came as a surprise to all of us. She had been battling cancer since early March, going through chemo treatments every two weeks. I would always call her every week after her treatment, because I knew that following the chemo, she was always too weak to talk or do anything for about 3 to 4 days. By late August, she was well on her way to a full recovery. Since July, her doctor had told her that her cancer appeared to be in full remission and that if things continued she would be able to stop her chemo treatments far earlier than he had imagined.

She hated being sick. I mean, who doesn't, but her reason for hating it was because it prevented her from completing her degree and getting her doctor's license. So many times she would tell me, "I'm a doctor. I should be taking care of others, not convalescing in this bed." I would tell her that she needed to take care of herself, complete her chemo and recuperate, so that she could do exactly that. I also told her that she should look at her sickness as an opportunity to see what it was like to be a patient, so that she could empathize more readily with her own patients once she was practicing her craft. She liked it when I told her that, because it made her sickness seem not so much an impediment, but from her point of view, a lesson in her own medical training. She told me it gave her purpose, even as she anticipated the day when she would be healthy enough to go back to school and complete her final year of residency before getting her license to practice.

In late August, the doctor told her that the cancer appeared to have been killed as the tests did not show a single cancer cell in her body. He prescribed her rest, but told her she should be able to return to her studies soon. She was elated as she wanted nothing more than to return and complete her last year of residency at the hospital. That was in August, and yet by October 22 of that same year, she was dead.

Today, I've been thinking about her a lot. So much so that I avoided calling my aunt and uncle today not only because I knew that they would be busy with arrangements for her one year anniversary mass, but also because a part of me wanted to avoid hearing them or my cousins cry. At least until tomorrow. It was not to be.

When my phone rang today, I immediately felt my emotions welling up inside of me, because all I could think of was the phone call I received a little after 5 pm one year ago, the same day I wrote this post. As I talked to my parents, and my cousins I remembered that conversation, and how once I hung up I immediately went online and purchased a plane ticket to be there for her funeral. I left at 6 am on Monday morning, and arrived there at 12 pm. My cousins (her brother being one of them) along with my father came to pick me up at the airport. I came out of the gate towards the street and saw them immediately. Both my cousins walked up to me, we hugged and started crying, with her brother telling me "she's gone. she's gone." We walked in silence to the car and drove to the funeral home. There, the emotions were almost too much to bear with so many family members overflowing from the funeral home, my aunt sitting close to the coffin, with my little cousin and my uncle, almost as if waiting, hoping that my cousin would open her eyes and get up.

Speaking to my parents today brought back so many memories and yet we spoke in general terms trying not to delve too much into the reason for the call, or how it reminded me of the same call as detailed above. I spoke with my cousin (her brother) briefly. It was obvious from our first words, that the pain had not abated much since then. We said a few words and then he gave the phone back to my mother. The emotion was just too much. Next, I spoke with my little cousin (her sister) and almost immediately following "Hello" she broke down in tears. The pain of her crying was almost too much. It brought back so vividly the pain of my cousin's funeral and burial, when I had to drag my little cousin away so that they could lower the coffin in its final resting place. She didn't want to let go, she was crying, almost screaming, "Sis, wake up! Get up! Don't go!" My aunt was too distraught, as was my uncle whose eulogy left not a single dry eye in that cemetery. Her brother by this time was beyond consolation, and none could bear to see my little cousin thrown over the coffin any more. Many of us moved to grab her, but since I was the closest, I got there first. I tried initially to talk to her, to get her to get up on her own. She did not. I gently tried to prod her, but all that did was to get her to wrap herself more tightly, her tears pouring over the coffin that was to be her sister's final resting place. Eventually, my father and uncle made a gesture telling me to take her from there. I had to use a little more strength, and eventually once I was able to get a hold of both her arms, I was able to pick her up and away from her sister's grave. By that time, I had joined her as tears ran down my face. We stayed watching as the grave diggers began to lower the coffin and as they poured dirt to cover the grave. Slowly, a few people began to walk away and towards their cars. It began to rain. As raindrops fell, we began to slowly walk back to our own cars. Our only consolation, was that my cousin was buried in the same grave as her grandmother (her final wish), grandfather and other relatives who now call that part of the cemetery, home.

Tonight I re-live those two days once again, part of the time in sadness, the other less so, particularly as I remember the time we spent together, from our early childhood, right up to the last years of her life when we saw each other far less than I would have liked. She was an incredible individual, driven and strong, quick witted and hilarious, and above all beautiful. Words alone can't do her justice. She was grander than life itself and fought to the end for that life she loved so much.

The memory I have of her as I write this, is of the last time I saw her, she was dressed all in white, with a white cap covering her bald head. She looked like an angel in her peaceful and eternal sleep, all she needed were wings.