Just Lisa ♥

This is a column dedicated to my aunt Lisa, and recounting the events that came following her death. It is recalled through my eyes. She was more important to me than I thought, and probably a lot more important to me than anyone thought she was.

The call came Wednesday night. Three days left until the wedding, and she was gone. I couldn’t believe it. She was supposed to be “the one” for my uncle. They were actually going to spend the rest of their lives together, they meant it. And now her life was gone. It was sudden, and we don’t quite know why. We won’t ask anymore, because it’s an answer we’ll never get. The fact of the matter was, she had killed herself. She shot herself three days before the wedding, with my uncle's gun, by just putting it in her mouth and pulling the trigger. My uncle found her. I had just gone from wearing a white and black polka-dot dress to wearing black. It had gone from a wedding to a wake, and it was all in one minute.

We arrived to my uncle’s house on Friday, to spend time with him and the rest of our family and hers. The wedding was going to be on a Saturday, so they scheduled the wake for Sunday instead. I saw the pain in her daughter’s eyes, felt it in my own soul. I don’t know why. It was just in the instant I looked in her eyes, all of her pain conveyed to me. I couldn’t imagine how bad it had been originally. She would catch herself and regain composure. The family ran throughout the house, bringing life to it again. We laughed and smiled, and had so much fun. You would forget why we were there.

Later in the evening, when the reason for our visit resurfaced, my uncle told me he had something for me. He pulled out his fianc&#;s fencing equipment, the thing she and I had bonded over most. He put it in front of me, telling me it was mine now. He wanted me to have it. She would’ve wanted me to have it. I insisted I couldn’t, but I looked at him and her daughter. They both nodded. This is what she would want. I took the equipment, looked through it. I held the blade in my hand. Perfect. I tried on the glove she wore to fence. Oddly enough, a perfect fit. It made me feel closer to her for some reason. As everyone went back to their conversations, I stood leaning on a chair at the table next to the equipment. I thought I might cry. I don’t know why, but I felt the urge to. Of course, me being me, I didn’t. My one cousin looked at me. She didn’t know our uncle’s fiancé, but she knew I had spent time with her. I could feel a tear in my eye refusing to fall thanks to my willpower. I smiled at my cousin. I was happy, yet sad. It happens.

The next night was the day the wedding had been scheduled for. We went to my uncle’s house again. Once again the family filled the house with life, every one of us. We talked and laughed again, we pranked each other and played football. It was happy. We avoided what was planned for the next day for the time being. We left that night and said goodbye.

The next morning I got up, knowing what the day held. “Today is gonna suck.” I had said to my mom. Because we both knew it was going to. I dressed in a pair of black pants, and a darker shirt. I dawned my black jacket. I had worn it the whole trip, I wasn’t going to stop now. We drove to the church where the service would be held at 1:30. As I walked in, it was just my mom, myself, and my uncle. We spoke with a few people, looked at the flowers they had for her, helped set them up. Then we took a seat. I watched as they brought in photos of her and photos she had taken. The photo they chose of her to make the center of attention was repainted in watercolor, large, and framed. She looked beautiful. It captured who she was, her easy brilliant smile and her eyes that laughed with her. Just from looking at that picture, from looking at her smile, I knew she wasn't thinking when she killed herself. I could just tell. More and more people filed in, looking at flowers and photos. Everyone sat down and the service began. Her sisters said a piece for her, followed by her daughter and her daughter’s boyfriend, then her nephews, a surprise speech by my cousin, and finally my uncle. Then a friend of hers came up, and a member of the church. Of everyone, I think it was her daughter’s boyfriend who captured it best. He captured who she was, everything about her. I didn’t know her long, but I knew her enough to know he was right.

So I began to think of her myself. In the middle of the service it suddenly occurred to me:
Even though she hadn’t married my uncle yet,
she was still my aunt.
She had been my aunt.
She is my aunt.
And she will be.
I had been fond of her. We had similar interests, similar feelings. She was what I hoped I could be when I got older. Silly, but true.
She was beautiful, creative, loving, unique, caring, compassionate, sweet, genuine, a photographer, an animal lover, a fencer, a lover. She was the perfect match for my uncle too. They complimented each other in every way. They were in love, completely in love. It was true love. When I saw them, I saw what I hoped I could find with someone someday. I think everyone did. I still hope I can have what they had with someone. She was amazing, she was an inspiration, she was always herself. She was Lisa. That was her, that was just Lisa. She was Just Lisa. But at the same time, she was so much more than that.

On my way home, I thought more and more. I felt something lift from me, a sort of enlightening. A lot of people felt like when Lisa left, she took a part of them with her. For me, I felt like she left a part of herself with me. And I’m so grateful she did. Her daughter had said to me “She always thought you were so cute. I wish you could’ve gotten to know her better.” I wish I had gotten to know her better, because then maybe a bit more of her could’ve been left with me, and I’m sure she could’ve brought so much joy to my life. But at the same time I’m glad I didn’t, because it would’ve hurt a lot more for her to go. And it hurt as it was. But in the time I got to know her, she touched my life. She touched a lot of people’s lives. Because that’s who she was. That was Just Lisa.