Yesterday my family buried my aunt. She died from a massive braintumor by essentially not waking up from the biopsy that confirmed her sentence. She was a wife, and a mother to my two cousins who are my age. I had not seen the entire family for years yet seeing those tear-stained faces I could do nothing but hug them tight.
And now I am on a quiet night shift and found the time to lie down on the couch. I cannot catch my sleep. Thoughts keep drifting back towards that funeral. What was it that hit home? The resemblance to two years ago?
Actually, no. What happened two years ago sent me to the Himalayas. I walked and I cried, I yelled, I stamped. I hurt. I hurt so badly that I thought it would never stop. But it did. By the time I got to Australia I was looking forward more than I was looking back. My journey has long since ended.
My cousins, my uncle, theirs has barely begun. And I want to be there for them. Not because I know, but because after so many years in medical practice, seeing so many unknown people die and cry, when it matters, I still care. Thank God for that.
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big hug…