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 committment 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. 

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 about things. Especially family. Family was the utmost importance and respect to her. If family did something that was dissrespectful somehow or rude or whatecver, Auntie told you and made sure you were held accountable for your actions. 

I could talk to her and with 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? 

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, sitting on the stoop of her Bellingham apartment one day, watching the cars go by as 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, simply enjoying each other's company, laughing and talking when she seriously and quietly and all of a sudden asked 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. I didn't get the meaning underneath your words.

What you meant was, 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 the lives of 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 going somewhere unknown without a why.

I love you Auntie Susie. And as you always said to me, I love you more, honey. 

Thank you for every single life lesson you gave me that at the age of 53, I'm just now understanding how much you have done.