I have to eat my words; to admit I wasn’t 100% accurate with my last rant. I made generalized statements that need to be sucked back into my mouth and recalculated in my brain. Not all family is unreachable. Not all family is reclused. I definitely deny being accurate about that.
Last night the Knight and I were reading Hawai’i tour books. Well, I was trying to pronounce names like humuhumunukunukuapuaa and the word for big balls. Kisa was reading about biking down volcanoes and how to avoid purple poi. It was rather peaceful and calm when my cell phone rang. It’s no secret I screen my calls, especially on my cell. Tiffany is still a popular girl when it comes to my digits. I almost didn’t even look. But, I’m glad I did when I saw the 303 area code. My aunt. That aunt.
I could barely hear her for all the crying. Devastation through the atmosphere. I wanted to book the first flight to 80104 just to be with her. She had gotten my card. I had gotten to her. We cried together miles apart. No words could ever explain. No letters could ever spell out. Sorry. So, so sorry. He loved us. That much we know. I hung up the phone not knowing where the consolation began and the grief ended. I suppose it doesn’t matter. The point is this – in these tough, terrible times some semblance of family rallied together. No thanks for nothing needed. Instead, all the thanks in the world.