My aunt, who lives in Tulsa, Oklahoma, is dying.

I haven't spoken to her in quite some time, because she co-signed for a few of my student loans, and I haven't always been able to keep up with them the way I should. This embarrasses me, and I can't stand embarrassment; it dissolves 20 years of growth & learning and turns me into a puzzled & frightened teenager who's ready to burst into tears at a moment's notice.

So I avoided her for a few years. And she developed cancer of a particularly nasty sort. At that point it had been so long since I'd spoken to her that I was embarrassed, so I avoided her, because as we now know, I can't stand embarassment.

Now she's dying. She's coming home from the hospital to start hospice care. She's an M.D. She knows what's coming, and what's best for her. She doesn't want the entire family to trek out to Tulsa to see her if she isn't dying. So the word's gone out, and we're all on our way.

Everybody except my brother, whose son, Lucas, will be born any minute.

I will meet my sister's son, Ezra, at the death watch for my aunt. I will see my grandmother, emeshed in a web of dementia that's left her barely recognizable, for the first time in years. And I will watch my mother, the youngest, outlive her sister and become the only surviving child of the three born to my grandmother & grandfather. Then, I imagine, my grandmother will turn into a cloud of gypsy moths and flutter away, leaving my mother alone.

Honestly, I don't know what to expect.