On Thursday my Aunt (Mummy's cousin), a good friend of mine and the most wonderful person passed on after suffering a massive pulmonary embolism. She was just 45. A wife and mother. Her youngest is only 8 years old.
while I want to detail the story, my mind wants me to write what I am feeling emotional.
I have not had the time to curl up into a ball and mourn even though my entire body wants to do just that. But I am a Mom of young children on holiday, and I have a full-time job with tight deadlines looming. I have asked for time off to mourn her but because the funeral is on the weekend I need to be here working so I can take time off when I really need to be at the funeral.
I have not cried except in bursts and even then may be a few seconds each time because I am being told to hold it together for our kids, because I am having to console one of her children who is in pieces, to tell people telling them not to cry to leave them to mourn as they choose, to rescue a child broken by shock, on Thursday night raw from grief to host the entire set of relatives unplanned, to coordinate her death certification and embalming, buy a coffin, resolve conflicts starting to brew. I am weary, that is the right word.
Also I feel guilty, if I have been in Kampala the time she was referred for the first time would a visit to her helped me with the diagnosis? May be the outcome would have been better? Everything now points to micro-embolisms that we ongoing.
Aunt Atto Filder Omony. I weko wa con tutwal.
