From the Bspot|Latifa|Originally Posted August 16, 2009

A year ago, my Aunty Latifa died after a long, on and off battle with breast cancer. I have a few sketches which either remind me of her, or were influenced by the way I felt concerning her at the time. I was never really close to my aunt, but we did share some one-on-one moments and we did make each other laugh sometimes. But when she became really sick towards the end (she was in a vegetative state for over a year), that is when I developed this strange one sided relationship with her. Because I visited her quite early in the morning, I was usually alone with her in the room. And then it felt like it was just me and her, like I could tell her my innermost secrets and she would understand. Whereas before I would never have been comfortable just holding her hand or stroking her hair, it was second-to-nature when she fell ill.

It’s funny because sometimes I still expect to see her at our weekly family gatherings. I will hear another one of my aunts and for a second I’ll think it’s her. Her number is still on my phone. Little by little, though, she is fading, becoming less real, less tangible. My Aunty Latifa.

It’s been two years now and seems way, way longer. She has almost entirely disappeared from my life and my imagination. I don’t mistake anyone’s voice for hers and my mind has stopped playing tricks on me where she’s concerned. She’s almost completely gone. But I don’t think I’ll ever erase her number from my phone.

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