Sad and stuffs

As Dia De Los Muertos comes and passes, it makes me miss so horribly, my aunt Becky. As I look around my house and find nothing of hers, no pictures or remembrances it breaks my heart. It's hard, even now, so many years later not to be bitter towards her children and the rest of my family. I was young, yes. But not stupid. She knew she was dying. She explained it to me. I didn't know what it meant, but I knew it was important to her that I understand. She promised me things that would remind me of her when she was gone. When she passed, and I spoke up to claim my rightful remembrances my cousins, aunts and uncles paid me no mind. Perhaps they were torn with their own grief. Perhaps they thought I was just a child to be ignored.

Either way. I am now without those things my aunt wanted me to have. My aunt never spoke to me as child. She explained things as if I was just another person that she could talk about things with, even though sometimes I was slow to grasp the concepts she explained to me.

My cousins were to old to pay attention to me, my aunts and uncles rarely allowed me to participate in their discussions. But let me tell you, Aunt Becky, and even Uncle David, they would actually talk to me, not just blow me off. They helped me to think for myself, even if I was young, I had thoughts and ideas that could contribute, even in adult conversation.

Aunt Becky taught me to laugh silently at idiots who thought they knew better, while keeping my thoughts to myself. I miss her. I think of her often. I doubt Helen, Carmen or Daniel think often of me at that time. I know it's harder to lose your mother then it is to lose an aunt. But at least they have things to remember her by. I wish I did.