Sitting on the bathroom floor with tears streaming down my face into a puddle on the cold, tan, tiles and onto the floor, I looked up to my mom with fear in my eyes. “She has cancer, brain cancer.” I could never imagine hearing the words coming out of my mom’s mouth. Never in a million years would I think my aunt, the woman with the most stunning smile I’ve ever seen, the strongest, most courageous, hard-working, amazing teacher, and athletic 60-year-old woman who ran a marathon a month before we found out that she has glioblastoma, one of the worst brain cancers to have. I sat there praying and praying it wouldn’t be true, but the way the words babbled together, I knew I couldn’t do anything to change the horrific news. She had to get surgery immediately because it was spreading so fast through her brain.

Walking in through the automatic opening hospital doors at 8:30 in the morning we were greeted by a few of the nurses who guided us to her room to see her before her surgery. It was difficult to see her sitting in her hospital bed, to say goodbye to my absolute favorite person ever. I prayed to God she would make it through the surgery and be okay. I told her I loved her so much, and she gently grabbed my hand saying, “I always love you more.” I kissed her soft, glistening cheek, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time.

Choking up, I walked out of the hospital room with tears in my eyes trying to be strong for my uncle with the words repeating in my mind, “I’ll always love you more.”

Into the bathroom I walked, I hope that she remembers me, all the fun times we’ve had together making puzzles at the lake. What if where they take the cancer out takes her memory and she doesn’t remember me? God, please do anything for her to remember me, her godchild, her niece.

It was a long wait out in the hospital room looking around at my family. We all sat there and in the matter of five hours, we played card games, told stories, good and bad, prayed, ate lunch, walked around the hospital; anything you could imagine doing in the hospital. we did it all. Then finally, her surgeon walked into the waiting room. We eagerly waited to hear the news. So many questions flooded my mind, Is she okay? Will she be okay? Is the cancer gone? Can I see her? Did she make it through the surgery?

The surgeon asked to talk to my uncle and his three children; my mother also went with them. He walked them into a different room to explain everything. I was anxious, and I couldn’t take the suspense anymore, I needed to know. That’s when they walked back into the cold, silent waiting room. When the surgeon began talking to us, I was confused; I had no idea what he was saying, so I just sat there waiting until my mom could explain to me all the big words he said. The only words I got out of his ten minute talk were that she was already recovering fast and that most patients can’t recover as fast as she already was, but she was up eating and wiggling her fingers and toes. He said, “I’ve never had a patient as amazing as her.” My uncle smiled, and it made everyone in the room smile too.

Time was passing, and we had to go shortly, hoping we could see her before we had to leave to go out of town for my volleyball tournament. They were only allowing a certain number of people in the hospital room, and it made me so sad to know I couldn’t get to see her before we left, so my mother just told her how much I loved her.

Fast forward a year. We would have lost her before Christmas. It’s September of the following year, and my sweet aunt is laying in her light pink night gown in bed. I’ve always had an angel stuffed animal that watched over me every night, so I gave it to her. My uncle put it right by her bedside. I knew she would be protected, because it protected me through all my rough times. Every week when I go visit her, I hold her hand, and when she lightly squeezes my hand, it takes me back to when she was sitting in the hospital bed about to go into surgery. Sadly, she can’t do anything for herself, but every night God receives a prayer from me, hoping that one day he will answer it.

Looking into the side mirror on the car I saw a breathtaking view, the sky last night. I just saw beauty. I felt like God was trying to tell me something important. Something so beautiful right before my eyes, I could feel the heavens above me. I had a feeling something was off. Why would God ever put something so beautiful before my eyes? Something must be happening. Something doesn’t feel right.  

Grievously, last night at 7:30, we got a devastating text that would change our lives forever. God called her home. At 7:10 pm she gained her angel wings, and my Aunt Nette went to heaven. With her three children and her husband by her bedside, she took her very last breath and passed away. We will love her and miss her dearly, but I’m glad her pain is now gone, and she is in a better place. As I sit here and think to myself, I guess my prayer did come true. Maybe not the way I wanted it to, but now all her pain is gone, and she isn’t miserable. I can’t wait to one day see her astonishing smile again.