Family’s Comings and Goings
Eleven years ago, on January 15, 2010, my mom passed.
Typically, I silence my phone when I go to sleep. Occasionally I’ll turn it to “Do Not Disturb” (I really should do that more often because emergency calls will ring on the second attempt to reach me.). Eleven years ago, however I had an inkling that something may happen overnight, so I left my ringer on. Before sunrise, I received a frantic call from my dad telling me my mom wasn’t breathing and that he’d called 911. Before I even left my front door, I knew she was gone from this world.
Two years after my mom, my dad passed on June 30, 2013. He was in a rehab facility at the time, and no one was with him when he physically died, but I take solace in the fact that I told him, “I love you” as my last words to him a few hours before.
Not long after my dad died, my aunts - my mother’s sisters - moved into my parents house. One had only one leg and needed a wheelchair to get anywhere beyond her recliner/bed (because she neglected to do her physical therapy with her prosthetic). My other aunt was in nominally better shape but had been on dialysis for fourteen years by that point, and her physical abilities were rapidly declining. From 2013 to 2019, I spent more and more of my time taking care of my aunts. I wished for help. I asked for help. I begged for help from everyone I could think of, but everyone was either too busy or simply incapable of helping. I broke an ankle at one point and occasionally had to use a cane because of my strained back. On June 5, 2019, one of my two aunts passed away. It was returning from her grave a couple days ago when I took the included photo of the San Tan Mountains as seen from the south - a view I know oh-so-well as I spent many of my childhood years living on the very northern edge of Sacaton, Arizona where this was the view from the back door and yard.
Life is not death though. Death may come now and again to change our lives, but it only accents growth and places it in comfortable context. It is something new that happens to us - grievous as it may sometimes be. Five years ago, on January 14, 2016, something else new happened to me. That was the day we, Rachel and I, legally completed our adoption of Marcus. I have always considered my life blessed, but he has been one of my greatest blessings.
It is primarily for Marcus that I record these memories. He may or may not be interested, but I leave them for him first.
I am very glad you are writing here, please carry on. Your perspective and voice are needed...I would love to see more Native voices on Substack, also. There is so much richness in Native culture, so much that needs to be written, spoken, sung and danced. And shared with the rest of the world. I was blessed by my 13 years of living in New Mexico, deep friendships with some Native people, and 5 years of working at the Institute of American Indian Arts.