I was with my aunt, dying from cancer. One of the last, greatest connections to my father's progeny. Me and father were never close. He'd, as of yet had already died. I kept myself at such an extreme distance from my family members: what with thier not being in the truth and all, that I actually poisoned all possible, normal relations with them.
I fought to go and be witness to her departure, but having gotten thru my own foolhardiness of mind: she was going to meet her eternal moment, I was probably going to have a ham sandwich, later in the week. All I could do, was try not to be overtly saddened. Allow her to see a face of grace, upon mines, and dignity regarding her eventual leaving.
I got down on the bed beside her. Extended my hand. Held it in honesty, so she could sense my sincerity. I didn't boo-hoo, her. She was able, in the end, to give a wonderful witness to me. That one day, this is something, all of us as humans will experience. That, as she was leaving, so too would I, and all of us there at her bedside.
I gave her the thoughts of her own, back some twenty or so years in history. As I was trying to be a goodie two shoes, member of the witness protection program, she tried to persuade me to life. She said, over and over again how I should be persuing my dreams, riding around in my own car, finding a girlfriend. Not settling for the limited opportunities that come from serving at the feet of the Watchtower Bible and Tract society.
I quietly let her know how I appreciated those little nuggets of Truth, as it was at the hour of her death; I was doing, exactly that. I, too, let her know how much of a more realistic fight, I had on my hands, as I was new to having found out about the lies, espoused from the tryanical tentacles of OZ. I let her know the pain of reality being suffered, as I was attempting to navigate a real life, with 'sponsibilities, and how it was costantly teaching me, real world, life skills.
I told her, sometimes I'm sorry I ever listened to you. She smiled. As she knew I was not fond of children. I had taken on a ready made family, at that time. It was an awesome meeting of the minds. Though I hated with a passion, to suffer myself the witness of her departure, I know it had mostly to do with my not wanting to witness my own mortality, through the eyes of her's. Her head was the kiss of the only corpse I've ever accomplished. Even then, it was done with some reservation. Were it not for the person before me who had done so. I know I would've never attempted such a feat. In the aftermath, I'm glad I did. I look forward, now, to hopefully kiss the corpse of my mother, should she die before, I.
