Growing up I had that family that was pretty near perfection in my eyes. My cousins and I would spend several days each week together. On Friday nights my grandma would have us all over for dinner. We all went to church together on Sunday morning. My mom and aunt were in charge of the children’s musical program at church, so we were always working together as a family to get a project done. Even my dad and uncle worked on projects every weekend. They fixed cars, built props for plays and after proms, you name it they built it. I can even remember one time at church all of my cousins and I standing up and singing wig the congregation and someone behind us saying see there are all those Flemings. Being a part of my family was a point of pride. This continued even after we were in high school and into college.

Then it happened, life changed. The day before, which was Easter, had been just like all the other Easters we had celebrated, but the next morning when I woke up it had all changed. My mom told me my aunt had been having some pains, so my uncle took her to the local ER, after some scans they were worried it was ovarian cancer. The world was slightly tilted, little did I realize that it was about to go completely upside down. Now we weren’t the family helping others cope with tragedy, we were the ones getting the help. It felt so weird, so unnatural, we weren’t the ones that were supposed to be dealing with tragedy, we were the ones that were supposed to be helping others deal with their tragedy. This new role was odd. After more tests and surgery, the news got worse, more grim, it was in the colon and liver. I will never forget the day we were all waiting in the hospital while my aunt had surgery to try and remove what they could. We were still hopeful, still in the mindset that we could beat this. When the surgeons came back in they looked defeated, they wanted to talk options and life expectancy. I was never told what her life expectancy was and in many ways I’m glad. Even after the news hit we were still in the fight, stay strong mode. We still stuck together as a family. We made dinners, our parents took turns taking her to chemo, our dads and lots of volunteers built a deck that she always wanted. Even when my aunt was sick and on chemo she would still sing in the choir at church, direct the children’s musicals and plan VBS, help to plan her daughters wedding, take care of her granddaughter. She was strong! This was no surprise to any of us though, that was her personality. She fought hard until the end, we all stayed united until the end.

In the end though it wasn’t enough. Life changed when my aunt got diagnosed, but it changed even more after she died. Slowly there were less family functions, Chrismas and holidays weren’t the same, we were missing a piece. My dad and uncle didn’t get together on the weekend anymore, cousins started moving away, life changed. Maybe it is just too hard to know even with all of our strength and “super powers” we couldn’t save her. Maybe being together is just a reminder of our defeat. Whatever it is life changed.