you'll be in my heart.

"Grief comes in its own time for everyone, in its own way. So the best we can do, the best anyone can do, is try for honesty. The really crappy thing, the worst part of grief, is that you can't control it. The best we can do is try to let ourselves feel it when it comes, and let it go when you can. The very worst part, is the minute you think you're past it, it starts all over again. And always, every time, it takes your breath away..." - Grey's Anatomy [9.24.09]

It tears apart the pieces of my sanity when I least expect. Hearing an old song on the radio. Driving down the street. Sitting in my apartment, eating a piece of potato bread. Something as simple as buying tea at the grocery store. Sometimes it still strikes me - the sudden desire to pick up the phone and call, tell her how my day went. Tell her about my new school. About my new friends. And then realizing I can't. Because she is gone.

Other members of my family write me. Ask me how life is. How I'm doing. Tell me that they love me and are thinking of me. And still there is a hole, an absence where she should be. Cards that will never be sent, phone calls that I will never recieve. The encouraging words I wish I could still hear no longer a plausible option. My future is devoid of her presence, and as the days pass and as the months have turned into years, sometimes it still breaks me down as powerfully as before.

I sit down to watch a movie on a Sunday night, and I think of her. How much she loved the Hallmark channel on Sunday nights, always waiting to tell me what movie was going to be on. How I used to join her from time to time, and she would pop a huge batch of popcorn and put it into the old brown wooden bowl. My mom had bought her a new popper one year, but she still swore that the old one popped the best. And we would top it with more butter and salt than was probably within the healthy quota... and we would enjoy it to the last kernel.

I still have those moments. This summer I went to the Doctor for the first time in a couple years, and was given the same boring paperwork. "Just make corrections if anything has changed." Unsuspecting I leafed through the sheet, relatively standard... a checkmark here or there but nothing out of the ordinary. No life altering changes to document. Or at least that is until the last page. Emergency contact information. In case my parents happened to be occupied, who should they contact? Well there she was. Name. Phone Number. Address. I wanted to leave it like that. Like a piece of her that would forever remain. For what were the chances of them ever needing an emergency contact, my parents were always around... Its like one of those moments where you want to pretend nothing has changed. In your mind you're telling yourself leave it, but you know you can't. And so I drew one solitary line through her name. One line. No longer valid. She is gone.

I love thinking of the happy times. The memories. The years shared. The ways in which she forever changed who I am. Even if it moves me to tears. Even if it causes to me to break down after exiting the post office, simply because I just sent a card to another Aunt and not to her. Even if it forces me to think back on those moments towards the end... the face forever engrained into my brain as one that was not her own.

Thats the problem with cancer - it changes a person. It transforms them before you even know what is happening. Takes away the strength. The delicate lines become harsh and pale. Weak and barely breathing, the person is half of who you want to remember. This is not them. But it is a picture that you will never forget. That I will never forget. Cancer took away my beloved Aunt Karen. Took her away from a family that loved her unconditionally, a husband who loved her unconditionallly. Children. Brothers. Sisters. Parents. Nieces. Nephews. Friends. It gets easier sure. As time passes the pain surfaces less often. But when it does, its as real as if it happened yesterday. I miss her. I miss her everday. And its true, every time that grief hits me, it takes my breath away...