26 March 2018

Juno Day Phone Call From Newfoundland

I was listening to Lou Reed, Art Bergman, the Rolling Stones and The Pointed Sticks when the phone rang. It was my dad. Calling from Newfoundland. He sounded well.

“Sitting down?” he asked, formalities complete.

I replied affirmatively.

“Your Aunt Emma died,” he informed me.

My only aunt who is younger than me. Grandma kept making babies until she was fucking near sixty.

“When she did not show at her grandson’s first birthday party a party was sent by her house. Had to break in. She was dead in her bed.”

Natural cause.

We talked some more and said our byes.

I love all my aunts and uncles but Emma was my favourite. She would be the first to agree with Lou Reed that life is good, but not fair at all.

That is four of my dad’s twelve brothers and sisters gone. But Emma’s the first one gone to make me wonder how fucking long I’ve got.


karen said...

I'm sorry about your aunt, Beer. I too wonder about the time I have and the time I have with those I love. All we can do, I think, is enjoy what we have while we have it. Hoisting a pint tonight to you and your Aunt Emma.

Mr. Beer N. Hockey said...

Even the youngest among us do not have such a long time afore them and some of us have damn little at all. So look at the stars, smell the flowers, and should you happen upon one, kiss a faller. My aunt was a kind woman, loved by many, now she’s some place else.