Thérèse Robitaille

[Sarah-Maude]

My great-aunt on my father's side was more of a grandmother to me. She died in 2000, when I was in 10th grade. It still doesn't feel like she's gone; it's as though she's still in her retirement home apartment, just a phone call away. She isn't, obviously. I miss those Sunday afternoon trips to her place, a 20-minute drive from where I live.

Thérèse was always great to talk to. The last few times my family and I have seen her, though, the conversations had taken a morbid turn: she would often mention how it was her wish and dream to one day wake up dead. We were all unsettled by her comment and were relieved when she would change the subject to more upbeat, though trivial, things.

As a child Thérèse got polio, which stunted the growth of one of her legs. Ever since, she has had to wear a flat shoe and a platform shoe and use a cane. Back in those days, a woman with such a disability was not marriage-worthy, so she spent her life as a spinster taking care of her siblings and relatives. In her seventies, she moved into the retirement home in which she would spend the rest of her life; that home was also where she met her first and only husband. They were happily married for two or three years, until her husband died. I can't imagine living a long life and finding love only at the end of it. Her story will remain with me always, so that I may never take my romantic relationships for granted.

Thérèse's dream and wish did come true in the end. One day, she went to the hair stylist located within her retirement home. While under the dome-shaped hair dryer, she fell asleep and suffered a brain hemorrhage. At the hospital she was put on life-support with little chance of ever waking up. We had not been the only part of the extended family to have heard of her final wish: all of us unanimously agreed to take her off life-support and let her, literally, die in her sleep. It was difficult anyway, because I still didn't really get to say goodbye properly (it's just doesn't feel the same when the person is in a coma). I also don't remember the last time I saw her alive and well, which I believe pains me most of all.

I often think of her, and believe that her energy looks over me as I go through life's challenges. I like to think that if people do go somewhere after they die, Thérèse is with her husband living a carefree afterlife without her disability.