Online Exhibition: 2016 Carol Crow Memorial Fellowship Honorable Mention

  May 13 - July 10

Monica Kennedy

It’s March 3rd. My mother, father and I are driving from Texas to the place my parent’s always say they can’t wait to get back to. Step backward, two days from this day, I step out of class to answer a phone call from my father, who typically never calls me unless it’s bad or he wants to know where I am. To my surprise, my aunt had passed away. I went back into class and had a seat. I did not tell anyone. I just stared into space and let it sink it. As we drove to Alabama no one really spoke as my mother was not looking so well, her emotions are blurred on her face and my father is trying to stay collected but he can’t hide his sad eyes which is a trademark from his side of the family.

Moving away and only being brought back to bury my loved ones is hard on me and I would imagine it would be hard on others as well. The very real emotion that took place on this day was being mixed around the room, starting with the moment I woke up to see my parent’s already primping and getting ready until months after the burial. My father comforted my mother as much as he could but nothing could replace the loss of this sister for my mother.

This aunt is one that raised me when my mother had to sleep after working overnight at the hospital and when my father had to work all throughout the day. The aunt that never told anyone that she was sick but you could see it and no one ever talked about it. The doctors told my mother a week before her death that she was lucky to be alive at that point, and now that she is gone it is kind of like a sign of relief but there is still this kind of despair that you just don’t let go of. The photos show how my mother death with the loss of my aunt and how my father tried to comfort her and be there for me.