Aunty Aisha would call me to say, “Akim, I’m calling you since you’ve refused to call me.” She would do this every week, and even though I remember loving the calls, I believe I took them for granted.
Aunty married my uncle, and she immediately became family. I was the pageboy at the wedding, and she made jokes about it every time. She didn’t talk much, and people complained about how she was antisocial, but honestly, that just made me get closer to her. Depending on how close I am to my extended family, I could even say she was my closest aunt (a few would argue, lol).
Aunty Aisha passed away a couple of years ago, a year after she lost her daughter. Cancer and sorrow took hold of her. I couldn’t imagine what she went through. In her sickness, she still called. Not weekly this time, but anytime she could.
“A Aisha” is still the first name on my contact list. For some reason, I’ve refused to delete the number, and even though I’ve changed phones a couple of times since she left us, Google finds a way to restore it to my phone.
A lot has happened in my life since she passed, and I believe she’d be happy with some things I’ve been able to do and, more importantly, the person I’ve grown to be. Anytime I remember she’s no longer around, I go through a brief moment of sadness.
A quote that comes to mind is, “The memories we make with our family are everything.” I wish I called Aunty Aisha more; I wish I had recorded our calls so I could listen to them. I wish, I wish, I wish.
