It turns out that Grandmother's sister Amy--my great-aunt, though I always called her Aunt--died today. I don't know exactly how old she was, but I know she was older than Grandmother is. She has had heart problems for quite awhile, but she was otherwise physically fine (all this is what Mum told me). She passed out today, and Uncle Burford went to check on her and found no pulse. She was dead.
When was the last time I saw Aunt Amy, anyway? I don't remember. I know it wasn't over the summer or during spring break. I want to say Thanksgiving or Christmas, but I doubt that. I know she was at Grandmother's 80th birthday surprise party last year, but that's the last time I saw her that stands out; she sat at the table that we had meant for Grandmother, but Grandmother ignored that and went to other tables to talk to everyone, so Aunt Amy and Uncle Burford got that table. I never saw her that often since she lived about 45 minutes away, and that was quite a drive at that age; as a result, I never knew her that well. She and Uncle Burford would send me a birthday card every year without fail. When I graduated from high school, they sent me a congratulations card. I could tell she sent it, too; the signature was always in her handwriting.
Mum isn't asking me to come up here since she knows I don't have time; she just wants me to call Grandmother in the next few days, as if she thinks I have no courtesy whatsoever. Of course I'd do that. Mum did raise me to be a fairly decent person. Then again, I'm the type of person to find a shred of humour in a funeral and to laugh at things that really shouldn't be funny (that's right, she raised a decent kid with a twisted sense of humour), so maybe she does have a point in reminding me.
This got me thinking, though. What do I want to happen to me when I die? How do I want to be remembered? See, she had family to remember her and to make funeral plans and all those things. I hope this will be a long way away (although we can't know these things), but if all goes as planned, I'll likely be living alone with nobody to find me if something happens. Normally living alone would make me quite happy, for then I wouldn't have to worry about housemates interfering with my strange habits. When I think of potential accidents, though, it makes the traditional lifestyle more appealing--you know, living with people, the whole deal. I think all of this comes down to one question.
How much am I willing to sacrifice for soundness of mind?