A Million Pieces | Teen Ink

A Million Pieces

October 30, 2014
By megc17 BRONZE, Havertown, Pennsylvania
megc17 BRONZE, Havertown, Pennsylvania
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Dedicated to anyone who has lost someone from cancer...

And just like that my heart shattered into a million pieces. Nothing in the history of the world could fill the void in my heart where my aunt Paulette used to be. She was not just my aunt or my godmother, she was a part of me. Even though I only had a short amount of time with her, I remember her vividly. She was always a kid at heart, and to this day I always think about the times we spent together. She was my partner in crime, and I always looked forward to the days when my parents said “We’re going to Aunt Paulette and Uncle Albert’s house.” She will always be in my memory and nobody will be able to take her place. Most people would think that four years with someone would be enough. But it wasn’t.
I remember the times we spent together down the shore before she was sick. She worked at a motel that had a pool, and whenever my siblings and I would want to go swimming she would sneak us in. She was awesome like that, because every kid wants an aunt who sneaks them into a motel to go swimming. There were also times down the shore when she would take me to the boardwalk. She would go on some kiddie rides with me and not get annoyed, and that was what made her the greatest aunt alive. At the beach, when my mom or dad didn’t want to go in the water and I did, she would take me in. She was always a free spirit when we were at the shore, and that was what made her my favorite aunt. But then she got sick.
I remember the day my parents told me she had cancer. They didn’t tell me straight out that she had it, because they believed that I couldn’t grasp the concept of cancer. I remember my mom saying to me ,”Honey, your aunt is sick, and she won’t be getting better anytime soon.” Of course four-year-old me said to her, “Well why can’t we just give her medicine?” But it didn’t work like that.
The thing about my aunt was that she was always an upbeat person around me. She never seemed upset about anything, and if she was then she had a great way of hiding it. After she was diagnosed I noticed the physical changes about her. How her hair started to disappear and the bandana she wore on her head. How her skin started to become paler and paler as the days passed. But her personality had never once faltered. She was still as happy as ever, and if she wasn’t happy a particular day I would have a hard time figuring out what made her that way. The trips down the shore had changed too. If I wanted to go into the water, she wouldn’t be able to take me in. She wasn’t able to bring me on rides at the boardwalk, or even take me to the boardwalk for that matter. She stopped coming down to the shore when she began getting worse, and then altogether she stopped coming.
I began seeing less and less of my aunt, because my parent’s didn’t want me to see her when she was sick. I don’t know if my aunt agreed with that, but I knew I didn’t like the idea. I needed to see her again, but then my dad got a call from my uncle to come over to his house. My dad left immediately while my mom stayed home with my siblings and I. My aunt had passed away. Those were the words I heard after my dad came back home. I remember asking my mom one time if she thinks her hair grew back in Heaven, and she said yes. I know that today my aunt is in a better place, and isn’t going through that bad time anymore, but I miss her. I miss her with every passing day. I miss her when I walk into my grandparent’s house and see her picture. I miss her when I see my uncle Albert. I miss her when I hold my first stuffed animal, a moose named Moosey, that she gave to me. I miss her when my mom or dad says her name. And I miss her when I see pictures of her holding me as a kid. I have always been afraid to ask about her or talk about her because I know if I start crying I won’t be able to stop. Nothing in the history of the world could fill the void in my heart where my aunt Paulette used to be. And it’s because when she died, my heart shattered into a million pieces.



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