Obachan

Death is not a hard concept for me. I know things happen and people die, whether of natural causes or other, so goes life. In the future, I will probably be faced with death many times because of my chosen occupation.

There has been people die in my family and close circle of friends. However, this is different. I don't know how I should handle this.

How do you live in a world where one of the most beautiful, strong women, mother, friend, and person that you have ever known, no longer exists?

My Obachan was a rock. No, she was a BEAST. She grew up in Japan where she later worked for the government. She married my dad's dad who was full Cherokee Indian and lived in america where they started a family. My grandfather, who I never met, died when my dad, the youngest in his family, was still very young. She raised five kids on her own in a foreign country. SHE RAISED FIVE KIDS ALONE IN A FOREIGN COUNTRY. Four of those five were boys.

I remember one summer when we we in Florida visiting her and my aunt and uncle, we were sitting around the table eating. I don't know how the subject came up, but they were talking about how she raised her whole family by herself. In her cute little Japanese accent she said, "When he died, I wanted to piss on his grave and curse him for leaving me with these five kids!!" ( maybe those weren't her exact words, but they were close.)

My Obachan has had health problems for as long as I can remember. She has been in congestive heart failure for probably the last 20 years, she had heart disease, was a diabetic, faced cancer, and towards the end of her life kidney failure. She lived with my Aunt Jane for about the past ten years. My aunt Jane is without a doubt the best caregiver you could ask for. Needless to say she is also the biggest loud-mouth overall bitchiest badass that I know. I wouldn't want to face her in a dark alley. Her and my Obachan would get in the biggest arguments when Aunt Jane would tell her that she just couldn't do some things (climb up on a 3 foot unsteady step stool to get things out of the cupboard when she was 80 years old). But Obachan never ever wanted her help or sympathy. She was the toughest four foot-something Japanese lady ever.

She took care of me when I was a baby when my parents were just starting out and living in Florida. We visited almost ever summer for as long as I can remember. My mom and dad went down to Florida last week right before they moved her to hospice to see her, but really for support for my dads brothers. Mom told me the other day that on one of the last days that Obachan was coherent enough to speak, she raised her arm and head up and said, "Someone bring me my checkbook! I need to write Elyse's Birthday check!!"

I won't miss the check, but I will miss getting the card every ear, with the scrawly writing from her telling me she loved me and Happy Birthday.

I love her.