My Aunt Jackie was one of the most people beautiful people I’ve ever had the pleasure to know.

I’m not talking about looks – though she was very attractive. I mean her personality, her soul. What she brought to the table of life was pure and real.

At the age of 32 she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She immediately had a mastectomy, several rounds of chemo and radiation. It went into remission.

At the age of 35 it returned with a vengeance, spreading to her spine, her bones, and other organs. It was terminal.

The truth isn’t easy to face

I had come to live with Jackie, Bob and Demetrius (their 7 year old) a few months before that terminal diagnosis. When the tides turned, I would take Demetrius to school and Jackie to her doctor’s appointments.

As much as I like to say that I was helpful, emotionally I was hardly there as much as I could have been. I didn’t know what to say to her most of the time. I was partially stunned, partially angry, and partially going insane inside.

Sometimes I found myself fearful of even being around her. She would grow angry with me as I drove her to her appointments, because I was driving too slow or too fast. She would yell at me because I didn’t bring the trash bag fast enough when she was throwing up.

It was tension-filled like that that until the day before she died.

“Let’s connect, okay…”

However prior to that point she and I had a conversation. We spoke about Bob (her husband) moving on to another woman after she passed.

I jokingly asked if she was going to make the bed shake at night, and we laughed about it.

I told her not to come to me as a spirit because I would be scared. But if she could find a way to let me know that she was okay, that would be good.

Several weeks after that conversation, she died.

It was very sad for all of us. We weren’t expecting her to die at that particular time. The day before she died the doctor told her she had 3-6 months to live. We were stunned that it happened the following day.

Laughter through the tears (in more ways than one)

I remember crying at the hospital that day. It must’ve been 2 hours after she’d passed. My best friend was there trying to console me, and I was going through this really strange emotional thing.

Though I was sad, inside I was a kind of happy that she was finally out of pain. Between the tears I really wanted to laugh.

SadGoldMask

My Aunt Jackie must’ve sensed that because suddenly – as clear as a gong – I heard her. I heard my Aunt Jackie call my name. CLEARLY.

She didn’t just call me, she told me to stop crying because she couldn’t understand anything I was saying.

And that’s not unusual (except for the timing) because that’s what she ALWAYS told me when I was crying. It was like our private joke when she was alive, and I was going through my frequent bouts of teenage angst.

I knew without a doubt that she was okay, and I dried my tears. My best friend never did hear anyone call me.

Up until that point I wasn’t totally sure that life existed beyond our physical senses.

And from that moment on, I knew that my life would be changed forever.