On August 7th, what the family (mother's side. Grandmother, 3 aunts + my mother, husbands of each, 10 cousins, and about 6 nieces/nephews) thought was mild stomach pain of Aunt D turned out to be full blown lung cancer. This came as a shock, but everyone was extremely supportive. While Aunt D was out of it for a few days, my mother who just got done with her own battle of (breast) cancer, was planning to help her out, tell her what to expect, all that. My mother was planning to fly down there when she could, the entire community ("The Clan", as it's called, is very ingrained, everyone knows everyone else, etc) was helping her out.
On August 20th, everything went to shit. A blood clot in her lung annihilated every hope of survival, and she was put on life support long enough for the family to assemble in the hospital room, with my mother there via an Aunt's iPhone video chat, and the plug was pulled.
My mother appeared dead to the world for a few days, until we all piled into the truck and drove down there on the 26th, a 9 hour drive. My mother was somewhat better by this. We get down there, and the viewing happens on the 27th. I have never seen my grandmother cry before this. A devout Catholic, along with most of the rest of the family, she's always been something of the iron matriarch, able to keep everyone together. I guess even those have their breaking points, and "Parent at her child's funeral" is one of them.
On the 31st, we drove up the mountains, to this 150 year old church near where Aunt D lived. A tiny one room affair where a Funeral Mass was held - the Rosary being held the previous night. The mass went off mostly without a hitch, one of my nephews acting about as well as you can expect a 12 year old to act who's not used to this - angrily snapping at the world. Her urn was buried after a nice speech from the msgr and a rather amazing speech from my native american uncle, who lit something I'm not quite aware what it was on, before saying a few words and giving a chant. We drove back down, went home, had In & Out, and went to bed.
We drove home today, and it was completely solidified that out of all of this, my mother was by far taking this the worst. Aunt B would just constantly work and keep busy. Aunt P took after Grandma with an iron spine and try to keep people together, but my mother was prone to fits of breaking down crying. The drive home consisted of her alternating between crying and lamenting about Aunt D's death, and sleeping when she was exhausted from it.
Also I learned I was sexually molested when I was like, 3, when the entire family sat down and the discussion went towards "At least none of us got sexually molested." "Well..."
So that's been my week
