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Aunt Helen Gives Me Strength My family flew over to Dallas to visit Aunt Helen and Uncle Roque in October. By then, Aunt Helen was already living and sleeping full-time in her hospice bed. I remember glancing for the first time behind her bedroom doors. She looked as happy as ever, silently reading her magazines. The moment I had stepped from behind the door, her face dazzled and she threw me one of those dashing smiles of hers, one to make me feel at home and warm in my heart. She was the same Aunt Helen we knew her to be. She was incredibly funny. We spent our time fiddling with the computer's camera, recording bits of conversation with Aunt Helen, while she concentrated intensely on the magazine articles in her hands, meticulously critiquing this season's clothing fashions. "This dress is so ugly, eh?" It would be the last time I saw her so active, and attentive, but her humor would live on until our next visit. The next time we came to visit, it was the Christmas Holiday, and I was happier than ever to be able to spend it with Aunt Helen. Again, I rushed to their first floor bedroom, excitedly waiting to greet Aunt Helen with a Merry Christmas. I poked my head around the door. I was terrified and sad all at once. I could not believe that her health had decreased by so much. She was a lot paler, and skinnier than I'd last seen her. She could only lie on her bed and stare bemuse at the television screen. It all came clear to me what cancer was doing to my aunt, and how much it was taking away from my family and me. I did not know what to say to her, how to speak to her, how to tell her I was here for her always. I did what I could to help my uncle take care of her, and I spent more time sitting on a stool besides her bed watching intently as cancer slowly wrenched my beloved aunt away from me. She did not respond as avidly as before to my words and consolations, yet I know that she understood me, and loved me all the same. I could feel her suffering, but her strength of character and will to go on help her continue living for us, for her loved ones. One day, we all gathered in her room to sing songs and make jokes. I sat beside Aunt Helen's bed as we said a prayer, hand in hand. All this time I was in awe of the strength and power of love that was present in that room. I loved listening to Uncle Roque and Aunt Helen exchanging narrations of their first dates. Each aimed to outwit the other. They had the purest and most genuine love for each other, the envy of couples far and wide. I saw that same love in my mother's eyes, as she smiled sweetly at Aunt Helen and held her hand. She did her best to make Aunt Helen comfortable and happy. She would do anything to see Aunt Helen smile. She was there to listen to her, to sing to her, to be there fore her, to love her. All the while, my mother made sure that Caroline, Catherine and I were taken care of and looked after. I learned that the two most precious things any person could give Aunt Helen were time and love. Uncle Roque and my mother were devoted to Aunt Helen, in both physical and moral support. Nothing Helen could have said would prove how much she was suffering, how much pain she was enduring. That which was not spoken, made the point infinitely clearer. In her struggle, she never despaired, she never felt hate, she never felt frustration. She remained unflinching and brave in facing this enormous challenge, which no other could bear more gracefully, lovingly and peacefully. At a time when most would turn their backs against the world, she embraced life to its fullest. She let everyone around her feel her love for her family. She taught me to appreciate every aspect of life, and that every challenge and every convenience was a gift, and a blessing. The world, as she saw it, was so beautiful, so unbelievably wonderful. Her courage and strength of mind is a source of admiration and inspiration to my family and me. "Let no one ever come to you without leaving better and happier." Mother Teresa Nobody exemplified this belief more thoroughly than Aunt Helen. Her radiant smile lit up the dullest of rooms, her affectionate laugh cleared up the cloudiest of skies. She always stood firm and graceful in the face of fear and struggle. Not a moment passes when I do not think of her, and she gives me strength. The following is Sonnet XVIII by William Shakespeare, it is my favorite, and fully demonstrates how Aunt Helen, so exquisite in every sense of the word, will live on forever in our hearts.
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