Do you ever wonder where everyone is going...

Shannon, do you ever wonder where everyone is going all the time and why they're always in such a rush to get there?

My Auntie Susie died in her sleep on Tuesday, April 14, 2026.

She was 65 years of age, born May 8, 1960.

She was my Dad's baby sister, exactly twelve years old when I was born in December of 1972, and she made a commitment to herself to be a large presence in my life (from babysitting me to right up until a few weeks ago) when we had (what I didn't know then was) our final hour-long phone chat on Monday, March 23, 2026 with a final read response from her the next morning Tuesday March 24, to my response to her last text to me that said, 'I love you', to which I replied as I always did, 'I love you too Auntie'.

And then the next thing I know is she's dead.

Her unexpected death makes me think about things in a new way. Or maybe I was not seeing things before, and now I'm seeing them clearly, the way they've always been. The difference now is that my vision is wiped clean of the illusions.

Auntie was a good person; her purpose was to bring warmth, laughter, and connection to the people she loved most in her life, and she did this throughout her entire life - she stayed on top of the people that she chose to be in her circle of love. And she didn't allow the illusion of time or fantasy to get in the way. She just continued to connect in her way - every day showing up, being present, no matter how life chose to be.

She didn't allow the silly details about things to get in the way of what mattered most, and she stuck to it. She spoke her mind and wasn't shy about letting people know how she felt. Especially family. Family was of the utmost importance and respect to her. If the family did something rude or whatever, Auntie told you and made sure you were held accountable for your actions.

I could talk to her about literally anything, and she just simply saw me. She listened. And we cracked up on the phone every single time.

Who is going to replace her? Just today, I was thinking to myself, who can I call to talk to since it's been about a month since we last talked?

Perfectionism was never a thing with Auntie. It was real and raw.

Paying attention to my bodymind has me thinking about time.

And how time doesn't wait for you, me, or anyone on this planet to decide on living your life right now.

Time doesn't get caught up - it simply moves on every single day while not waiting for you to figure it out. Time goes. And goes and goes. And when my Auntie died in her sleep, unexpectedly, without any illness, warning, or knowledge of any underlying cause, it made me and everything in my life stop.

Everything stops because...

I'm finally beginning to realize the weight of her words from so many years ago as we sat on the stoop of her Bellingham apartment one day, watching the cars go by while she and I waited for her daughter (my godchild) Jenn, to come home from school.

We just sat there watching those cars whiz by, for over thirty minutes or more, simply enjoying each other's company, laughing and talking, when she seriously and quietly and all of a sudden asked me in a tone of voice I had not ever heard from her before and all while not looking at me but at the ground, (which is maybe why now it makes sense why this interaction with Auntie has never left me):

'Shannon, do you ever wonder where everyone is going all of the time and why they're always in such a rush to get there?'

You know what, Auntie?

I get it now.

I didn't then. I didn't understand what you were saying to me. I just thought you were asking about people and their daily lives, schedules, and what they did every day. Up until now, your words have stayed with me, and I haven't understood the meaning underneath your words.

What you meant was - and is what you did your best to teach me for my entire life, and are doing even now to teach me after your death, -is that life is right now.

It's not in the rushing to get there, or anything of the sort.

Auntie, your death has helped me solidify and give purpose to the rest of my life and how I want and will from now on choose to live it.

What matters most is the actual moment-to-moment connection, the living, and the sharing of my life with my family and friends right now. And I now know that this isn't a cliche - it's real, it's life, it's community, and it's how Auntie lived her life - giving the gift of her presence -not in the rush of cars or plans of life going somewhere without a why.

I love you, Auntie Susie. You were always my favorite Auntie from day one. And as you always said to me, I love you and miss you more, honey.

Thank you for every single life lesson you gave me; at 53, I'm just now beginning to understand the depth of how much you have done for and given to me.