aunt

my mother called to say that my aunt hadn’t been

answering her phone.

living alone for decades really, in her apartment overlooking the beach

watching Foxtel

and occasionally seeing one of her friends.

one of those isolated retirements.

she had a cat.

I made sure she had one, drove her down to the pound

a few years before

and we brought home a little black and white kitten

which she called, “Little Fella”.

a life-line to something that existed beyond her and Foxtel.

and wouldn’t cheat on her.

and wouldn’t beat her.

her friend had called my mother who called me to say

that my aunt hadn’t arrived at a luncheon

three days before.

I decided to ring my aunt but no answer, just her answering machine,

with her uncertain flailing voice.

the last time I heard it.

I went to her apartment and knocked on the door.

grave concern

because she is not someone who really leaves her apartment.

even if she had to she wouldn’t

because she hated to abandon Little Fella.

I started banging on the door.

no response.

I went down the elevator to the caretaker’s office

but he didn’t have a spare key.

a locksmith came

a young guy

who didn’t know what he was in for.

but he couldn’t break the lock.

“smash it!” I said.  “just smash it open.”

the young lad heaved his body into it again and again

as the caretaker and I stood behind him.

and finally the lock gave away.

the door flung open.

my aunt was not only my aunt but one of the closest persons in my life.

decades of conversations,

wine,

and what we always ate together, fish and chips.

lying there, looking terrible.  had been lying there far too long.

days.

I looked over her,

then

after a bit I silently walked out,

ignoring the other two

who

stood aghast.

I went down the hall and around the corner,

fell to my knees

and howled in one of those crazy ways,

like how you see on the news.

a peasant howl.

peasant misery.

howling as loud as fuck, the whole fifteen story building would have

heard it.

given the little children nightmares.

made the adults drink.

my aunt has gone,

that is not her.