My aunt had a pure heart, but she was always misunderstood by her parents and siblings. Eventually, they labeled her the problem child—and she let that define her. She harbored immense animosity toward all of them. Her life slowly unraveled. She turned to animals, taking in neighborhood strays. And that’s who she was when she died: the crazy cat lady, blind in one eye, living in a disheveled house.

But whenever we visited her, she was always kind and incredibly generous. To my siblings, my cousins, and me, she poured out a love that had nowhere else to go. We were blank canvases, untouched by the judgments of her past.

My cousin saw her last night and the next day she was dead from a heart attack. The only thing I wish is that it happened in her sleep, and that she wasn't searching for a loved one when it was her time to go.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5733798&forum_id=2#48989810)