I wrote this while waiting in the Edinburgh Airport around 6AM GMT Thursday / 1AM EST Thursday:
As I write this, I’m sitting in Edinburgh Airport at 6:35AM. I’m wide awake but in a bit of a daze; I’ve more or less been awake for 24 hours and the only sleep I’ve gotten is a 10 minute doze on the train from Newcastle to Edinburgh. It’s been a busy 24 hours. The day started off normally enough – I woke up at a stupid hour and just stayed in bed staring at the ceiling and mentally prepared myself for my usual Wednesday: Common Ground, Kids Kabin, football. Common Ground and Kids Kabin happened but football did not. When I got home from Kids Kabin I was told by my cousin that my aunt, my mom’s younger sister, was found dead in her apartment, an apparent suicide. After the initial shock/cry I sat in my room in order to decide what to do. Without really thinking I found myself checking all the airline sites for flights home.
Looking back to that time (12 hours ago, though it doesn’t seem that long), if I had actually sat down and thought about it for even just 5 minutes, I’m not sure whether I’d make the same decision to come home. That being said, I do have a tendency to doubt myself and my instincts. But, that which seems to be a collective family instinct, and perhaps a bit of impulsiveness, led to me booking a $459 flight (coming out to $603 after taxes, but I haven’t applied for the bereavement fare yet). When I heard on Wednesday evening that the funeral was going to be on Friday morning, EST, I was a bit unsure whether I could make it home in time. After checking online however, I discovered there was one flight at a reasonable price that would get me home Thursday afternoon and my brother volunteered to pick me up from the airport. The only problem was that the flight left at 9am from Edinburgh and no morning trains would get me there in time; the only option was to take a train Wednesday night at 9:48PM… I came to this realization at around 7:30PM. So, I quickly called up Dad to make sure it was okay with him; he told me I couldn’t make it and that it’d be too expensive, but it didn’t take much convincing once I told him it was doable, relatively cheap, and that I’d already asked my brother to pick me up. Then it was frantic booking and Continental Airline’s website seemed to move as slowly as it’s ever moved. The train site wasn’t cooperating with me either so I decided I’d just buy a ticket at the train station as I ran upstairs to pack my bags while my flatmates graciously packed me a snack bag (Thanks Laura and Abby!). I kind of just threw a few things in my bag, mainly electronics and my panda bear, but stupidly forgot my retainer (please teeth, don’t shift this week), then ran out the door.
I caught the train with plenty of time to spare, arrived in Edinburgh, and then plopped myself down at a Burger King for a solid 2.5 hours or so, eating the worst onion rings ever made just so I could use the free wifi. Then at 1:45AM I caught the bus to the airport where I found a few dozen other travelers sleeping on benches, but failed to actually fall asleep. I walked back and forth in a futile attempt to tire myself out until finally I could check in and proceed to the gate, where I am now.
In about 10 hours I will be landing in Newark so hopefully I’ll get some sleep on the plane if I’m not distracted by the individual tv screens/movies. Something tells me the next couple of days will be physically and mentally exhausting. As I look around me, I’m a little jealous of everyone else for two reasons: 1) they look well rested, and 2) they look excited to be going on a holiday or adventure. I am definitely not well rested. I am a little excited, awful as that may sound, to go home though. I haven’t really gotten homesick in Newcastle, but as soon as I heard the news I knew no one could make me feel better or understand what I was feeling besides my family.
Something tells me they feel the same way, given the response so far. News spreads fast in my family, even though my cousins and I always seem to start conversations with the preface “So my mom told me not to tell anyone but…” Two morals to this story: 1) Don’t tell us cousins any secrets. We will ruin them just about every time. 2) My family shares everything. I suppose they’re kind of the same moral, but one is a bit of a euphemism of the other.
Within an hour of hearing the news, my parents, aunts and uncles – the Phans and all the aunts/uncles who married into the family – all rushed out of work and to my aunt’s house so that any decisions would be made as a family. Sometimes making decisions as a family is a pain, as evidenced by the good ol’ days when all the dads would pull over to the side of the road while we were caravanning to the beach in order to argue about where we got lost and which way we should go from there. Other times, like this, it’s really great to see everyone gathered to get things done and just to be together. While us cousins are spread all over the world, we all know exactly how to get in touch with each other to make sure everyone is doing okay. It only makes me wish that we had done something similar with my aunt, to let her know we were thinking of her and that we love her unconditionally. At family events we’d always say things like “I wish Di Ut were here” but never did anything else about it.
I can only imagine what my aunt’s last moments were like. The only thing I can imagine is my aunt praying, “Please forgive me, God” over and over again, and I can hear her voice saying it. I can’t imagine, however, how scared and alone she must have felt. This is my aunt who isn’t married and has no kids, just a big house with spare rooms filled with dolls. She had really loved one guy a long time ago, but couldn’t marry him due to cultural pressures. I’m glad times have changed, but I only wish that they had changed in time for my aunt to be happy with that man.
My aunt’s passing reminded me the most recent episode of How I Met Your Mother, where one of the main characters tries to recall the last words his father said to him. I tried to remember the last time I spoke with my aunt and it devastates me that I not only can’t remember when we last spoke, but that I also can’t even remember when I last saw her. My aunt was frequently absent from family gatherings for reasons I can’t be bothered to go into, but when she did come along it was just like picking up where we had last left off – there was no awkwardness or resentment from anyone. I remember her laughing hysterically at our antics, our choreographed dances, and other great family moments. Man, she had a great laugh. It was an explosive and almost cackle-like laugh that was strangely contagious.
I’ve never really been an openly expressive or emotional person, so I’m really surprised I’ve even written this much. My flatmates laughed at me the other day because of my almost-absurd loyalty to science and reasoning. Abby asked me if she could borrow a book that I’d brought over to England whenever I finished – I started it on the plane ride to England but since then haven’t even moved the bookmark. I told her she could just borrow it right then and there because “there are too many emotions and feelings in the book” so then my flatmates had a good laugh at my expense. I think I get this lack of open expressiveness from my dad. My mom and brother definitely wear their hearts out on their sleeves and end their conversations with an “I love you” whereas my dad and I end conversations with a “um… k… seeya!” Perhaps I should make a more conscious effort to be a little more open, who knows? It’s something worth thinking about. However, currently, I’m not all that great at expressing emotions. But you know who/what IS good at expressing emotions?
Country music. Did any of you realistically think I could go a ridiculously long post without mentioning country music? The first song that popped into my head is a Tim McGraw song called “If I Died Today” and is about speculating who would remember you, if anyone. Some of the lyrics go “If I died today, who’d turn off my coffee pot, would there be a street rparade, would I just be an afterthought?… I wonder who I’d see, crying standing over me…” This won’t be a rose parade, but she won’t just be forgotten. I have a lot of memories of my aunt even though we grew apart in recent years, but I’d like to think that she won’t just be an afterthought, and I’m sure she will have many people crying standing over her casket.
