A Visit I Will Never Forget

Today I visited my aunt in the nursing home, and it took me back to better times much happier and simpler times.

Before we dive in, here’s a little bit of backstory. My aunt had been diagnosed with skin cancer and lost her ability to walk. She had been living in Indiana for years, but about a decade ago, she lived here with us. After my uncle passed away, she moved to Indiana.

Since she moved away, I haven’t gotten to see her as much as I would’ve liked, besides a few summer visits when I was a teenager. Her return wasn’t under the best circumstances. This hasn’t been a fun time in her life, or ours navigating her diagnosis, her insurance, and all the small tragedies that come with being terminally ill. She’s been back in my state for about five months now. She was in a different facility in Indiana but wasn’t satisfied with the conditions, so she asked to be brought back here. It wasn’t easy she’s immobile and had to endure a four-hour ride just to come back but she did it. She wanted to be close to my mom, who is her best friend.

They’re the kind of best friends who talk on the phone for hours, gossip about relatives, and always have each other’s back. Not to throw my mom under the bus, but she hasn’t always been the best mom to me. Still, I can say she’s always been a good sister to my aunt. They’ve been through a lot together. When they were in their late teens and early twenties, they moved from their hometown in Louisiana to Chicago, lived together, and worked side by side at a factory for over a decade.

There was a time when my aunt fell into the wrong crowd and took a difficult path. She ended up moving back to Louisiana with my grandma to get her life back on track. My mom, who was actually her boss at the factory, saw how addiction had affected her. But please don’t let this part of the story change your view of my aunt—this was a long time ago, and they both came from a hostile, abusive household in the 70s. My aunt returned stronger than ever and started working again with my mom.

Eventually, she and my uncle moved back to Louisiana, my mom met my dad and retired from the factory, and they both settled into new phases of life. My aunt and uncle later moved back here for a short while—and that’s where the memory begins.

When I was younger, I spent so much time with them. My mom and aunt would go to bargain stores together, ride around town grabbing tacos our family loves tacos and shop for makeup, hair products, jewelry, and whatever else they wanted. Shopping was my aunt’s favorite hobby. She’d pick me up from school, and sometimes my mom and I would sleep over, or I’d stay the night by myself. Some of my best memories are of sitting in her living room watching TV, eating bagels with cream cheese.

Despite how sick my aunt is now, I still remember exactly who she used to be. Being in that basement room of the nursing home with her and my mom took me right back. It’s wild to think how a run-down room in a nursing home can bring up warm memories, but it reminded me of everything I loved about childhood the freedom to love without boundaries, before I understood the complexities of family.

But my aunt? She was never a complicated person. She has always been a light. Even now, she’s cracking jokes and showering us with love. During our visit, she told me I was her best friend. She’s always called me her mini-me, even when I was little.

So sitting next to her on a hospital bed reminded me of the times we went to Wendy’s in my uncle’s Buick or cruised around town in my parents' minivan. Sure, our “hangouts” look a little different now. But I’m grateful to still be her mini-me. I’m grateful to still be her best friend.

It’s an honor to be loved that deeply by someone who has known every version of me since birth, through my awkward middle school days, my angsty teen years, and now into my married, college student life.

If I had a time machine, I’d go back to age six, riding around with my aunt and uncle. But time is a thief. A quiet, unrelenting thief that gets away every year.

Family can be complicated but I’ll save the trauma for another story. I’m writing this to honor my aunt and everything she’s been to me. And I’m writing this to remind you to cherish the people you love. None of us have unlimited time.

So send the text. Make the phone call. Go visit if you can.

Take care, friends. And stay safe. 🤍