Level 7

The Best Aunt Ever

My mother’s youngest sister’s name was Maritza. She was the coolest aunt I have ever had. She was 16 years old when I was born and I believe she took me as her own baby doll to play with. Definitely, we grew up together.

As my cousins were born and began to join the gang with Maritza as our leader, there couldn’t have been better days at my grandma's house than those when all of us were together playing endless games. However, some of those days there were hours where she used to be away, locked in her room, yelling or simply not being there for us. As young as I was, I couldn’t understand, and as a result my mood used to change as well; therefore, both were sad. It was a mystery to me how she used to be the most joyful person in the place but within minutes changed to the most wretched.

When I picture her in my mind, the first thing I remember is her eyes; they were big, popped and brown. When my siblings, cousins and I were in trouble and she caught us, we were scared of those eyes. Her cheeks were rounded and a little bit blushed all the time. She used to say it was due to the hot summer days, but I knew that she used to put some makeup on.

I remember her having short hair forever, but family stories say that she used to have waist-long straight hair. There was one time after an argument with her mother; she cut her hair as short as she could to show how upset she felt. She never grew it long again.

She was strong, not just a thick build, she actually was stronger than her brothers. She dreamed about becoming a veterinarian and she used to say that being strong would help her to handle a cow or a horse when they need it. She never got to study veterinary, instead she got an MD degree and worked in a few countryside small towns away from home. I remember how much I missed her then.

Maritza, like the rest of my family and I, is from Venezuela, a country in South America which is known for having a unique mixture of races. People's phenotypes vary from one to another even in the same family. Maritza is an example of this fact; while her siblings are light tan-skinned with European features and curly hair, she had Hispanic-looking brown skin. She just looked exactly like an aunt of her own.

When my siblings and I talk about Maritza we highlight all the wonderful stories we had of her being the great person she was. She never stopped trying to smile even in her deepest moments like when cancer struck. She always cooked for us but also made us clean up after ourselves. She was a smart learner but even better a great teacher who patiently guided us on those homework hours. She loved music and had a particular playlist that sometimes pops up in my head. It was changing in beats and feelings like her mood.

She always had a plan for everything and everyone. Holidays were the time when she showed off planning every single detail to the point that the rest of the family needed to ask or confirm with her for their parts in the family reunion. She was the household doctor that made the family feel safe in good hands, but also the one who used to take away the drama we add to a simple bruise.

By the end of her life, she decided to remain unhappy, she decided to die without fighting or telling anyone. She hid all her heart's pain from everyone and kept her loved ones away from even suspecting something was wrong.

She was born to serve and she did well leaving marks in people's life. She didn’t have children but she got nieces and nephews that adored her. 

   She didn’t die alone but lonely and for that I grieve it. She deserved a healing love, the one that could have saved her from herself. Although her death isn’t recent, in my heart it is. I’m still in grief.

I decided to celebrate her life through mine because I wouldn’t be the person I am if I hadn’t had her in my life, and for that I’m grateful.

Written by: Jeniffer Ramirez Zavarse