Epilogue Mayte
EPILOGUE
Mayte
Dear Aida,
Hey. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve been home, so I haven’t gotten to visit you and replenish your candy stash, which in the snow is probably getting sticky and gross all over your headstone.
Ew. Point is, I’m writing this letter and I’ll bring it next time so I don’t forget to tell you everything that’s been going on lately.
I declared my major this week. I’ve known what it was going to be since the moment I sent out an application, but it’s official now.
This first semester has been mostly required classes like math and science and English and stuff, but I get to take my first special education class next semester and I’m so pumped.
It’s just Introduction to Special Education, but I’m still excited to actually start getting into it.
This is what loving you has become now that you’re gone.
I got into another fight with Mami and Dad.
They’re kind of frustrated that I’m not around much.
Since school is only thirty minutes from their house, they expect me to come home every other day.
I still don’t feel like we know how to talk about you appropriately, but at least we’re talking about you.
Grief looks different for all of us, and sometimes that makes us clash.
Honestly, I think Mami and Dad probably thought I’d live at home and commute to classes, but I’m really glad I’m in the dorms. My roommate is weird.
She goes out almost every night and then sleeps all day, so the lights are always off when I come in between classes.
I do a lot of reading with my phone flashlight under blankets, which is oddly fun and something I wish I could’ve done with you.
Janko and Leo are still going strong, still long distance, still absolutely disgusting.
I actually kind of think he might propose over Christmas break.
He asked Claire and me for her ring size and we’re still trying to find a subtle way to talk him out of it, but also we can’t tell if he’s actually planning to propose.
We’re hoping he’ll just give her a promise ring or something.
And Auggie like Doggy.
I am still absolutely, wildly in love with the doofus.
Sometimes I think he’s still a little sad that he didn’t end up at one of the dream colleges.
He applied with “Georgio” and didn’t get into any of them.
I don’t think state college was ever part of the plan.
But then again, I don’t think I was ever part of the plan either.
When he declared Creative Writing as his major this week, he didn’t shut up about it for days, which made me really happy.
He’s done research on all the creative writing classes ever offered here and is still working on his four-year dream schedule.
I know you would laugh at his awkwardness all the time.
You would’ve loved him. He would’ve loved you.
I don’t remember if I told you about his roommate or not, but he’s a total stoner Guitar major named Keoni, and their room always smells like weed.
Auggie hates it and it’s hilarious, but he also loves Keoni, which is even more hilarious.
Sometimes I’ll walk in on Auggie reading him stories while Keoni just stares into space or sits cross-legged with his eyes closed.
Also, he and I have been talking about it for months now, but we finally signed up for therapy.
It’s free here for students. I kept saying I was doing better, which I am, but I’m still not great, and he kept saying his writing was his therapy.
We both had our first sessions this week.
Auggie didn’t really tell me much about his, which I guess is how it’s supposed to be.
We process with someone else so we can share with each other but not drown each other.
At least that’s what my therapist told me, and it makes sense.
I told her all about you. Or not all, I guess, because the session’s only fifty minutes, which is way too short to cover our entire relationship and all of who you are.
She also asked about my ring, so I told her about Abuelita and how she gave it to me for graduation.
I saw her take notes about that, so I’m sure we’ll be diving into the Abuelita trauma eventually.
She also told me a little about “complex grief,” which I guess is exactly what it sounds like—grief that is complex.
But I think it definitely applies to me.
Not only am I grieving you, but I’m grieving the fact that we never got to have the relationship I wanted. It’s heavy. I’m sure you get that.
I miss you all the time and I wish you could see me and who I’m becoming.
I still can’t believe it. Me, your baby sister, in college, studying to be a Special Education teacher.
I know, it’s cheesy, but I didn’t know this is who I could become.
When you left, I was so scared of every next minute, every next move, because I never saw your death coming.
But sometimes, when I look around at everything, when I realize the way I’m moving forward with you always on my mind, I think maybe you really did see those boats on the lake.
I’m going to tell myself you did. That you’re still there, seashell hand and snorting laugh and all, and that you love me. That makes me feel so much less afraid.
Love,
Your sister, Mayte