I Thought Today Would Be Different


After my mom went to the hospital last night with her blood pressure (which hit 260/160 while she was there) and I sent the message to my aunt telling her to start calling my mom, I thought that today she might call.  I mean, you would think that telling a person that her sister had been sick enough to go to the hospital a week before and was back there at that moment with something as serious as her blood pressure that it might be enough to move them to do something as minor as call and check in.  I know things aren’t going to change overnight.  I know that it would be a miracle for things to dramatically change at all.  A phone call shouldn’t be a dramatic change.

Though they weren’t necessarily the best of friends growing up, as adults they were quite close.  I know that they were close because of how close my cousin was to my mom and how close I was to my aunt.  I know my mom watched him when he was young.  I remember my aunt watching me when I was young.  I know that before my mom was too sick or in too much pain to do much that my aunt would take Nana, mom, and me to the mall for a fun day.  I know that when my mom would have surgery, my aunt would be right there.  I know that my mom had told my aunt that if anything ever happened to my parents, when I was a kid, that she wanted my aunt to be my guardian.  And since I know just how protective and clingy my mom can be towards me, I knew that that fact most of all meant that my mom trusted and loved my aunt so much.

That knowledge as a child didn’t predict that our family would fall apart.  It didn’t predict that Nana and then my mom would get accused at one point or another of being a drug addict.  It didn’t predict that my aunt who always seemed to believe in me would tell my mom that there was no chance I would ever graduate from college.  It didn’t predict that a woman who traded shifts of sitting next to the hospital bed of Granddaddy with Nana and my mom wouldn’t be able to spend a day or night during a weekend with Nana in 2008 when she had a bad bout of pneumonia or that she wouldn’t be able to come check on my mom during either of her hospital stays for kidney failure or that she wouldn’t call or check on her on any of the days that she was having any of her ankle surgeries.

So why did I think it would suddenly be different?  Why did I think sending her a message would get her to call?  Why did I think it would change things?  I guess things make sense when you’re pissed off, but in the light of day you can see that it means expecting the impossible to occur.  So, now I feel like the message was a waste of time.  Now, I feel like I probably should have spent the short while that it took to write and send that message on finding another way to keep me from thinking that my mom was at the hospital dying.

I guess that if the blood pressure and kidney failure continues to get worse, I can’t expect anything from that aunt.  I guess that I should have already known that.  I just hoped for something different.  I hoped that maybe she could channel the old her.

Maybe I should give her the benefit of the doubt about it.  Maybe I should think about the possibility that she just hasn’t checked her messages.  I mean, I guess that could be the case.  Of course, I used to think that was the case with why her husband didn’t add me on Facebook, until I realized that he was just as addicted to getting on it every day as many of the other 500 million or so people on the site.  I have a feeling she’s just like him in that respect.  Even if she isn’t on there every day it has to be possible that she gets messages sent to her email or to her phone, right?  Possibly.  Who knows?

I want my aunt back.  Not the one that I have written scathingly about in the past.  I don’t want her.  I want the person that she was.  I want the person who my mom trusted.  I want the one who was one of the only people from my real life who I could tell at first about cutting or about how bad my depression was or about how much I missed Stephanie or how afraid I was (at that time) of Elijah.  I miss her.  And part of me wants to believe that there is some way to get her back, but that logical part of me says that there is no way to get her back.  That part tells me that the old version of my aunt is dead and gone, and that the only aunt left is this new and definitely not improved version.


About Janet Morris

I'm from Huntsville, Alabama. I've got as many college credits as a doctorate candidate, and the GPA of some of them, too. I have a boss by the name of Amy Pond. She's a dachshund. My parents both grew up in Alabama.