Day 276 Press Play

I'm locked out. 

Like, legitimately locked out. Somehow, my brain didn't process that, between the last time we'd gone over to each other's homes, they'd actually learn to lock their doors. Growing up in our cul-de-sac, more than half the houses belonged to Filipinos so, since the kids were always in and out of one house or the other, our parents never saw the point in locking their doors. And those who did at least had the decency to leave their garages open so we could grab something from their kitchens. 


So yeah, after I got over my initial "CrapWTFnow?" moment, I pretty much spent the next 10-15 minutes alternatively standing awkwardly at the front door, listening to the singing and praying on the other side, and attempting to open the door (which I knew was locked but somehow hoped had miraculously opened since the last time I'd attempted). During the one stretch of silence on the other side, I decide to actually knock... and immediately realized that waiting outside awkwardly made me miss the entire prayer. Usually, I'm okay with this since I loathe prayer meetings... but missing this one makes me feel like an epic asshole. 


My aunt's sons have made a DVD "so you can see her as the mother, sister and friend that she was to us in her final years." Kai is there and I'm surprised to see him, much less that he's chosen to be courteous to me as he rises from his seat next to my Baby and I slide in as they press play. 

The next few minutes pass as pictures of my aunt's life flash on the screen. I'm struck by how alike the women of this family are. I confuse my aunt for her daughter in a few pictures, my cousins for their mothers and I can't help but think that it's fitting: she'll always live in her children and their children too. I don't remember when a lot of the photos were taken, but when I hear my aunt's sisters sniffling behind me, I go from "tearing up" to just flat-out "tearing" so I turn to the Baby and dab my eyes on her shoulder when I can't hold it in. 

When the video ends, I rise and greet the family, some of them belatedly realizing that I'm not my sister. I laugh it off, hug my aunt's children, greet her husband and sisters and thank them for having us over. I start chatting with Krissy and fall into a conversation with her and, eventually, her sister Ella and the Baby that lasts for the rest of our time there. Considering that there are literally albums filled with pictures of the four us together from our childhood, I can't pinpoint the last time the four of us had gotten together like this. It's a bit of a shame that it took a tragedy for it to finally happen, but I can't find it too bad of a situation... since the people at that house and the people mourning her everywhere else meant that she was loved, that she mattered, that she made a difference.