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A year ago, my Aunty Latifa died after a long, on and off battle with breast cancer. I have a few sketches which either remind me of her, or were influenced by the way I felt concerning her at the time. I was never really close to my aunt, but we did share some one-on-one moments and we did make each other laugh sometimes. But when she became really sick towards the end (she was in a vegetative state for over a year), that is when I developed this strange one sided relationship with her. Because I visited her quite early in the morning, I was usually alone with her in the room. And then it felt like it was just me and her, like I could tell her my innermost secrets and she would understand. Whereas before I would never have been comfortable just holding her hand or stroking her hair, it was second-to-nature when she fell ill.
It’s been two years now and seems way, way longer. She has almost entirely disappeared from my life and my imagination. I don’t mistake anyone’s voice for hers and my mind has stopped playing tricks on me where she’s concerned. She’s almost completely gone. But I don’t think I’ll ever erase her number from my phone.
Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.
Image may be NSFW.Clik here to view.
