There are those who will not understand where this is about to go and for them I will say just like she would have "Fuck'em", I'm not sorry, this one, this one is for me. If your looking to read on about all the great things my Aunt did in her life keep reading, but if you're looking for me to sugar coat my anger and hide my pain so this can be comfortable and easy for you to read then please, skip this one. If you want honest, you want real, you want Nancy, then you take the good with the bad and you keep reading because this, this is for me as much as it is for her and she never sugarcoated who she was. This may hurt but there is nothing about death that doesn't and maybe thats a lesson we could all walk away with.
My aunt was a pill popping drunk with a loud mouth and a great rack. There it is I said it and maybe it didn't have to be said to get where this is goin, but there it is in black and white. Not everyone could understand a statement like that but I am damn sure she would have rather I put it out there than pretended no one's thought it. The greater truth, the deeper, more important FACT, is that my aunt was one of the strongest women I have ever known. There is no way to remember a persons strength without recalling their weakness and maybe it's not polite and maybe it's not how you would do it but professional life aside when I think about my Nancy, our Nancy, polite is not the first thing that comes to mind. I think loud, loving, living and in her finest moments goddamned breathtaking for all the right reasons and all the wrong ones too. Even after that there is so much more before polite. She wore her scars better than most and if all you saw was the pill poppin drunk then you never looked her in the eyes and you definitly never listened past the whiney tone she got when she was hurting.
She wasn't just my blood, she was my friend, my other mother and my hero. Nancy showed me how to enjoy what I had. Sometimes it was as simple as dancing to Zepplin, toilet papering my Aunt Amy's house, hiding out just long enough to get it together or sharing my secrets with someone who had been there, done that, but she always had a way of makin it better and I guess that's what Aunts are for. Right now though, right now in this very moment, I'm pissed off between tears, I'm wishin she was here and I'm waiting for her to call, drunk and pissin and moanin about the last bitch to piss her off. To tell me how the last ride on the hardtail fucked up her back or how she's once again friends with the backstabbing bitch she told me about last time we spoke. I'm putting off sleeping because when I wake up this will still be real, she'll still be dead and people who knew her will still be telling me how "surreal" this all is and how "sorry" they are, and what I want to do is scream. More than that I want to laugh until I forget the sad parts and only remember the good. I want to hear stories about the loud mouth bitch we knew and loved, I want to scream at the sky and tell her what an asshole she is for leaving us. I want to dance to Zepplin until it rains Nancy, hear her laughter in the laughter around me, hear her whine one last time. Watch her dance with the past one more time while sitting at Rays with that smile, you know the one someone gets when they remember a REALLY good time and then tell me she was just gonna have "One more, just one more".
The last thing I said to my Aunt was come home, I love you, come home. When I said this I meant come home to fucking Connecticut but I didn't say shit about doin it as ashes. I know she's no longer in pain and she's in a better place but for fucks sake the one time the silly bitch listened to me she had to go and do it the hard way. The twisted part is, that, that was Nancy. She loved and wanted to be loved, she laughed and lived and she did it all at something close to an 11 but she always did it her way. Knowing Nancy was and always will be knowing life, some serious highs, a fair share of lows but always a good time, always a suprise, always a great fuckin ride and good possibility of a titty shot, even if you didn't really want it.
Dear Ant Nancy,
Thanks for teaching me how to take care of myself in ways only someone you share your secrets with can. Thanks for Steven Tyler, Led Zepplin, The Stones and so much more. Thanks for holdin my hair back and holding me while I cried. Thanks for my first real job and my first ride on a Harley. Thanks for giving me the best parts of you and all the in between. I know wherever you are you'll be with me and I know I'm not as angry as I'm trying to be and I know you get that too.
Fuck you, I love you. ~ Meg
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