I am re-posting this as I am watching Primetime on ABC. They are recounting the life of Randy Pausch who died of Pancreatic Cancer. This is the same disease that took my Aunt. I am thankful that medicine has progressed in such a way that a 4 months to live diagnosis does not mean it will be. Her Dr.'s diagnosis was right on the money, but he lived. And hope that eventually it will be another cancer that people can survive.
On Friday April 14, 1995 I lost one the most important, influential and loving persons in my life. My Aunt Dorothy Lumpkin Weir. She died of Pancreatic Cancer. A cancer at that time killed everyone. I can remember the conversation she had with my father, her brother and she said "Jack, it's not good." I was sitting on my mom's lap. That was about a month 2 months before she passed.
I had recently went through reconstructive surgery on my shoulder in March and honestly did not believe she would die or leave me. I didn't die during the surgery so why should she die? I knew my Aunt. The woman who I wanted to be, the woman who taught me the art of cooking, the woman who showed me what a strong proud Black woman was about, the woman who would come and get me and take me on trips to show me more than Athens, GA., telling me she was not going to survive this disease. She would not be there for my children. She would not help me shuffle through life. She would be gone.
The day I received the call that she was no longer talking, no longer recognizing her surroundings I wanted to be with her. I wanted to die with her. She was my everything. She represented everything to me. She was the only person I knew that my Father was scared of, the person who was regarded as an authority. She had love. She represented love. She provided me the opportunity for me to be. Without question. She loved me. Unconditional. She loved me.
I spent her last with her. She could no longer speak. She could grunt and she held my hand and my brother's hand. He could not handle her state. But I wanted to be there. Her boyfriend of 25 years or so said she was waiting for me and I felt it. She as able to grip my hand and hold it tight. She told me so much in her grip as loose and firm as it was. I knew I was her light. Her nickname for me was "Lil' Heifer." It might sound demeaning or condescending but it was her name for me. I was always full of something. Had an opinion or thought about something. I knew I would be her Heifer for the rest of my life. She was bold, she was cunning, she grew hybrid Roses in her yard, she had an old old's named Betsy that I loved taking trips in. She was my everything.
I know it might seem strange, but when I am going through hard times, moments when I feel as if I cannot go on I dream and I see her. She comes to me. She talks with me. And she hugs me. I can feel her hug. Her smell. The woman she was before cancer. And she reassures me that it will be OK. That life will go on. I look for and cherish the love I receive from her in my dreams. She was a remarkable woman. The world was cheated when she left us in 1995. I need her now as I did in the past.
