aunt winnie signs off
My cousin emailed me the other day... Our Aunt Winnie died. She had been battling to stay alive for years, but finally her heritage caught up with her and she laid down her sword. Aunt Winnie represents my native heritage and succumbed to genetics. This is something that anyone with native genes understands - our blood, for all of it's purity and noblity, has a short shelf life. It wasn't always this way. With the introduction of white explorers and their foreign diseases and their sugar rich diet to the native experience, an unknown deal was brokered and it would signal the end of healthy living for every native. They should have killed whitey when they had the chance. Or, at least, stayed away from his twinkies.
Winnie died of complications from cancer, diabetes and other genetic nightmares.
I never knew her. By the time I knew I had an Aunt Winnie, I was mourning the loss of my father who had just died from his dance with the unknown genetic nightmare and I wasn't in a position to really appreciate her. Winnie would be one of several siblings that my father would never know that he had or get the chance to meet. It would take him getting sick to open the doors to his past and it would bring his secret heritage to light. Before he could fully appreciate who he was, he died. He never knew where he came from or what kind of past he was a part of. That left me to meet those that he never knew and that never knew him. It was difficult position to be in for me, and for his new relatives. They didn't appreciate the blind-siding and were not all that crazy about embracing their lost sibling. At least, not right away. Then add to the fact that they only learned of his existence after he died.
One of his sisters and one brother would come to his funeral and from there a new family history was exposed to me. Relatives that carried with them answers to questions that had haunted my family for as far back as anyone could remember, were introduced to me. They had questions, I had questions. We both got answers and most of them were hard to swallow. It all added up to a dark family secret that was never meant to see the light of day. However, with all those involved already dead, it was left to us to pick up the pieces and figure out what to do.
It was hard for both sides of this secret to reconcile with the truth and it was left to me and my cousin to do most of the "getting to know you" part. It's this same cousin that emailed to tell me that one of the few people on her side of the family that didn't mind the scandal, had passed away.
It's been over seven years since my father's passing and Winnie had been suffering long before my father died. Her age.. I don't know exactly, but somewhere close to 50. My father died at the age of 48. The average life expectance of an American.. 72. A Native American... 49. Diabetes owns us. Cancer seems to be jealous of this and fights to make it's mark on us as well. It's a bitter reminder that this show isn't going to last forever and that there might not be a curtain call.
I never knew Winnie... but she lives in me in ways that I can't not describe to you. It's in moments like this that I am reminded that I cannot let difficult and awkward questions scare me from discovering who and what I am. If I am going to rail on about being honest and embracing one's self, then I think I should dig deeper into my own past and see what it means for my future. I would hate to think that if I died, that a branch of my family's tree would be lost forever because I was too much of a coward to find out what kind of wood my family tree is made of.
Winnie died of complications from cancer, diabetes and other genetic nightmares.
I never knew her. By the time I knew I had an Aunt Winnie, I was mourning the loss of my father who had just died from his dance with the unknown genetic nightmare and I wasn't in a position to really appreciate her. Winnie would be one of several siblings that my father would never know that he had or get the chance to meet. It would take him getting sick to open the doors to his past and it would bring his secret heritage to light. Before he could fully appreciate who he was, he died. He never knew where he came from or what kind of past he was a part of. That left me to meet those that he never knew and that never knew him. It was difficult position to be in for me, and for his new relatives. They didn't appreciate the blind-siding and were not all that crazy about embracing their lost sibling. At least, not right away. Then add to the fact that they only learned of his existence after he died.
One of his sisters and one brother would come to his funeral and from there a new family history was exposed to me. Relatives that carried with them answers to questions that had haunted my family for as far back as anyone could remember, were introduced to me. They had questions, I had questions. We both got answers and most of them were hard to swallow. It all added up to a dark family secret that was never meant to see the light of day. However, with all those involved already dead, it was left to us to pick up the pieces and figure out what to do.
It was hard for both sides of this secret to reconcile with the truth and it was left to me and my cousin to do most of the "getting to know you" part. It's this same cousin that emailed to tell me that one of the few people on her side of the family that didn't mind the scandal, had passed away.
It's been over seven years since my father's passing and Winnie had been suffering long before my father died. Her age.. I don't know exactly, but somewhere close to 50. My father died at the age of 48. The average life expectance of an American.. 72. A Native American... 49. Diabetes owns us. Cancer seems to be jealous of this and fights to make it's mark on us as well. It's a bitter reminder that this show isn't going to last forever and that there might not be a curtain call.
I never knew Winnie... but she lives in me in ways that I can't not describe to you. It's in moments like this that I am reminded that I cannot let difficult and awkward questions scare me from discovering who and what I am. If I am going to rail on about being honest and embracing one's self, then I think I should dig deeper into my own past and see what it means for my future. I would hate to think that if I died, that a branch of my family's tree would be lost forever because I was too much of a coward to find out what kind of wood my family tree is made of.
posted by Daniel Loomis | 4:34 PM
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