[pieces]

we went to visit my aunt today. it was our first trip to see her since my uncle passed away, over a month ago. she's been bouncing around from kid to kid since shortly after the funeral. and the tired look on her face was proof of that. as with my mom, her good friend, and my other aunt before her, the hollow shell that remains isn't really the aunt i've known all my life. loving someone and having them in your life for over sixty years makes their absence in your life seem unrealistic. you find yourself on the other side of being a two, back to being a one. but you're no longer the one you were going into it. that person no longer exists. and even if you wanted them to, you probably couldn't remember how to even find them. so much of you has changed over the years that you spent building a life together. when half of yourself is taken from you, you're left standing on shaky ground. not really having much faith in your legs and feet below you to keep holding you up. parts of her still remain, but not enough pieces exist to keep you from seeing that she's much sadder now. and when you hear her say, "i stay pretty busy during the day running different places, but the nights seem so much longer now," it's enough to break your heart. especially when you see the tears form in your mom's eyes, knowing that she can agree with that all too well.