Day 170

It's been a while since I've updated this. Not because I haven't been thinking and still grieving, but because I've kept myself busy and telling myself I didn't have time.

Excuses. It's the pathway to Hell, disguised as good intentions.

No more, at least not today.

August (and summer) are coming to an end. It's the season I most associate with Mary.

My niece's baby shower come and gone, my stepson's visit over with all too soon. My birthday and my father's passed. It wasn't the same. 

Moments she should have shared with us. Sept 11 makes six months. I was talking with my mother Sunday, about how time seems to have flown by, but it feels like she's been gone longer.

Mom's still going through really rough patches. We all are I guess, and we all deal with it differently. I had Rob hang the photo collage full of Mary -- both before her last fight, during and the week she died, still laughing and smiling and fighting. The last picture I have with her. I hate that Dawn didn't want to be in it with me. But I have it, and everyday I see her and say hello. It's made it a little better I think.

Last week was her wedding anniversary. My parents and Dawn and Haley took Dan out to dinner. They shared stories and laughed at good memories, but it will never be the same.

And last Saturday Levi moved away to college. My heart broke and I got all depressed because she missed this, another milestone in her son's life. And yesterday he put on fb that he loves his history class and might consider that as a major. And she's missing these awesome and incredible moments of him starting to discover who he wants to be as an adult. I promised her I would be there for him, for her - and so I'm trying. I'm so proud of that kid :)

And so today I toast to my Mar, my inspiration to keep making goals and doing what I need to to achieve them.

I set up a face book page for my acting career, and a blog as an actor's guide for things of that nature, and hopefully this weekend I will get to setting up Mary's site, her Hope For All. Then it will be finding time to maintain everything. I need more hours. But I feel her give me strength and tell me I'm doing good and that she's proud of me too

Days 137 & 138

Day 138

Yesterday was a bad day (day 137). I'm posting my thoughts because I'm human and allowed to feel rotten sometimes. But I'm keeping it at the end of this in case the gentler readers don't want all the frustration and angst and rottenness of my mood to affect them.

Today was better. It was Levi's graduation party. It was a good time, as good a time as the family can have without Mary here.

I spoke with my parents, I really do deal much better with them in person than on the phone by the way.

Dad gave me a copy of the valedictorian's speech from Levi's graduation. It was written and delivered by one of his best friends. And it was beautiful. He mentioned Mary and her strength and perseverance and brought a bittersweet tear to my eye. Levi's got such a great group of friends. I hope they keep in touch even though their lives will move them in different circles. I really haven't remained close with most of my friends from high school, and sometimes I wish I had.

The first five or so minutes of the party were full of me holding back tears, missing my sister so much. But then I let it go and ate with Rob and Haley and my goddaughter Lauren, and we had a really fun time. The conversation was good, we played some Rummy and a game of War and talked and laughed.

Then I sat with my parents and talked and laughed with them. And even though I still have a lump in my throat from not crying and I imagine I'm not the only one I see life continuing. Less tears, less gut wrenching heartache. Never forgotten and I will miss her forever anytime the family is there and she isn't. But it's right. Life goes on. Children grow up. Haley's going to give birth in around 6 weeks. It's beautiful and bittersweet.

Dawn's getting her radiation and hopefully that will stop the cancer in her neck from getting worse or spreading. We hope, we pray, we love - because we are the ones still here. The world doesn't stop turning in our grief. Seasons will change and soon it will be autumn and then winter. And everyday we should take a moment and stop and appreciate this precious little bit of time we get.

Day 137

I am a thoroughly rotten daughter. R-O-T-T-E-N.

When my father calls to vent about how the family that still live in my parent's house treat him and how it upsets him, instead of being a sympathetic ear I instead say, "Everyone in that house is fucking crazy and that's why I don't come and see you more often." Or, "this is why I don't call Mom. Because I can't keep listening to the same shit bitching all the time."

I don't know how to make my family not drive me crazy. I love them. With my whole heart I love them. And maybe because I love them so much is why they drive me crazy and fill me with frustration and anger that it's the same broken record conversation I've been having for over a year with them.

And my opinion really means squat because they hear it, but never really listen to what I'm saying. So for my own sanity I distance myself deliberately. I look at my phone and think I should call them, but then I can't bear to dial their number.

I don't want to be in a place where I will be unhappy because I hate how these circumstances take over EVERYTHING IN LIFE. That's not my life. That's not how I want to live. I have enough stress and issues that I put on myself and try not to burden anyone with.

And trust me dear reader the things I post about here are only the tip of my personal effed up iceberg.

We've got a slew of firsts coming up in the next week or so. Levi's graduation party and I can't even think about it without becoming a gross mess. My Dad's birthday, he'll be turning 77. I switched a rehearsal so we can go over to that house and celebrate with him. It's a day when I put aside my personal feelings of the drama of that household and be there for my dad. Then, there's my birthday. Another first without Mary.

I'm a broken record I know, but times like this, how frustrated I feel? She was the only one that ever got me, that knew EXACTLY how I felt - so incredibly fed up because I care so much and wanting to NOT care because it would just make things easier. But in order to stop caring you have to stop loving. I told Rob once that if the day comes where I stop getting upset its because I've stopped loving a person. Frustration, anger, rage...love....it all stems from love. How fucked up is that?

Day 122

The last few weeks have been keeping me busy, my mind occupied.

I've had a good amount of work that needed to be done by Monday (and now I'm playing catch up to everything else that took a back seat), I've had a burst of creativity and am participating in July's Camp NaNaWrMo (and only slightly freaked out when I go to research stuff that my characters are involved in to find I've pretty much hit the mark), and Tuesday night started rehearsals for my next show (I'll be playing Fantine in a local production of Les Miserables - a dream role).

So, my brain's been so full I haven't had time to dwell in grief. The beauty and sadness of life moving on.

Today it came to a head when I got home from work and saw a card addressed "Uncle Rob and Aunt Mel". I smiled opening it, thinking it was the baby shower invitation for my niece (which is next month). Instead I found an invitation to Levi's (Mary's son) graduation party. The last of the nephews to have theirs, and I knew it was coming up. Enclosed were two wallet sized senior portraits. And there it slammed back into my, the chasm of my grief. Sucked me back into the loss of my sister in a way I haven't felt in months. 

Dashing the tears away as fast as they seeped out of my eyes I thought to take my mind off it by going over my music. I did okay, crying a few times as lyrics and situation hit home (my character dies, leaving her small child). But when I got to the finale, when Fantine appears to John Valjean to take him to heaven....well, let's just say I put the music down, turned off the piano and am grateful that I have three months to prepare for that scene. And hopefully repetition with desensitize me to the weight and beauty of the music and lyrics.

"Come to me where chains will never bind you.

All your grief, at last, at last behind you.

God in Heaven, look down on him in mercy.

Take my hand, I'll lead you to salvation.

Take my love, for love is everlasting.

And remember the truth that once was spoken - 

To love another person is to see the face of God."

Yeah. I hope another three months will be long enough.

As I went to write this I realized that today marks the beginning of Month 5 without her.

I know I know, stop being so sad. Mary wouldn't want tears anymore. And so, now I've got Ke$ha playing on Spotify - because she'd be dancing with me if she were here. And who knows, maybe a spark of her energy is in the room me dancing anyway.

Day 121 (was Day 120)

This should have posted yesterday.

Well today another shoe has dropped.

Dawn (my other sister, who was going through chemotherapy for Stage IV breast cancer while Mary battled her lung cancer) found the results from her MRI done last week. There's some abnormality in her bone marrow and they're going to be scheduling her for radiation. I don't know if its mets or something else. It doesn't seem like anyone asked or that the doctor volunteered much information.

This is what's going through my head right now:

Anger. Frustration. Sorrow. Numbness. Shock.

It doesn't get easier. It will NEVER get any easier.

And I believe in God, I do. But what God that is active and hands-on in this world would allow this to happen again. So quickly after the last. My mother can't lose another child this year. She's already lost her eldest daughter, and one of her sisters.

I know, "life isn't fair". And I'm not arguing that. But a God that would allow this to happen? That's not right. My mother (and father - and by extension all of us left, my sister, my brothers, my nieces and nephews, my in-laws, my sister's soon to be born grandson)...not one of us has done ANYTHING so bad as to warrant this. Again.

So I believe in God. But my God created us and left us to figure it out on our own. And once in a while, if we're really lucky? He'll come in with just enough to let us know, "Hey, I'm still floating around. But you've got to be patient. I'm only here in case of a real emergency."

So maybe he doesn't think this is a real emergency. Not yet. And if it's up to us to figure out how strong we can be, to keep going forward in spite of the shit that gets thrown our way, I guess that's the way it has to be.

I worry about my parents now too, especially my mother. Not even four months.

An addendum to my rage-y post a few weeks ago. My husband suggested we not isolate ourselves from my family - instead let it make our relationship stronger, and just try to put things by. So we spent the 4th of July with my parents, sister, niece, brother and sister-in-law. I had a great time, walked away when conversation started to upset me, but tried to do it in a non-aggressive way.

And at that and my nephew's graduation party on Saturday I did my very best to try to limit the profanities that usually spew forth from me like a sailor. Because, like I said, I can't fix something if I don't know what's wrong, and I try my hardest to not be hypocritical.

Day 112

The days seem easier to handle when my mind is kept busy.

And this weekend, though I found myself thinking of her often I was able to do it with half a smile and no tears behind my eyes.

Is this the acceptance of loss? The moment of moving on? Where the missing is still there, the vacuum from her absence still present, but I don't feel like my heart is being ripped out anymore. It's moving on, but not forgetting, never forgetting her. Never ever.

This weekend my back was bothering me to the point of taking some intense pain killers and not moving too much. Instead I wrote. And wrote and wrote. And then I wrote some more. About 10 thousand words added to a story I started in November. I made a valiant effort at NaNoWr and tried to continue it in April. I'm now trying to get a head start on their July 'writing camp'. But I digress (as usual).

My brother Timmy stopped over and picked up matters and box spring we had laying around and brought us a wooded glider that Rob is going to fix up and give to my niece as a baby shower present.

Timmy told us that Mary's son, Levi, spent the week with him. I guess he is upset with his dad because he starting seeing someone. And Levi (understandably) feels that it is too soon.

Rob and I talked about it Sunday morning over breakfast, he wanted to know how I felt.

Did I feel like Dan is betraying his wife's memory by dating again so soon after her death?

And the fact is, I don't. Mary knew, especially by Christmas, that as hard as she was fighting her cancer it would eventually take her. I believe with every fiber of my being her last goal was to be alive to see Levi graduate from high school. She knew her time kept getting shorter with each progression of her disease. 

Mary was not a fool, but she didn't want anyone in our family to know how little time she had left, certainly not her son. When all else is gone, we need to be able to cling to something: faith, hope, prayer. That things will be alright.

Mary never gave up fighting but she knew it would be futile in the end. It only makes me admire her that much more.

Christmas Day at my parents when she came in their living room she didn't have to say a word to me. I looked her in the eyes and saw that she knew what I did. It would be her last Christmas. Words we would never ever say out loud and we didn't need to. Both of us burst into tears and just held each other full of each others knowledge and pain. I felt her fear and she knew my sorrow and we gave each other our strength to keep going and pretend she would get better and not died for a very very long time.

How can I believe that she wouldn't have had a moment like that with her husband. And if it wasn't silent like ours a discussion took place. And Dan knew too. We talked about it, he and I. When she was first diagnosed with the lung cancer, he asked how long I thought she'd have. I said a year if we were lucky.

Seeing her deteriorate day after day, especially the final months, he knew. It doesn't make his grief less than anyone else's if he is dating someone now. He held her hand and stood by her until the last breath left her body. And if she ever doubted his love for her she didn't at those final moments.

She would want him to move on. Not forget her, but he is still young, and he has it truth been grieving for longer than she's been dead.

Day 108

This post is subtitled: On the Occasion of My Wedding Anniversary (it's kind of long winded, my deepest apologies for that! And I meant to post this yesterday, on my actual wedding anniversary. Story of my life that it is late...)

Three years ago I was married in a lovely civil ceremony in Orchard Park, NY. If you looked to the side, you'd see Ralph Wilson Stadium (home of the Buffalo Bills) in the not far off distance. My father walked me down the aisle. My god daughter served as my "flower girl" and stepson served as the "ring bearer". We had no other attendants. Rob wore his dress greens (he was active duty Army at the time, preparing to ship to Afghanistan that October - the reason that prompted our marriage). I was so severely bloated from stress and flying to pick up his son and the humidity I felt like Ahab's mythical white whale.

I abhor nearly all the pictures from my wedding - they serve as a constant reminder of my heaviest weight ever. But there are some that I adore above nearly all. There's a picture of Rob and I laughing our arses off when he couldn't remember which finger to put the wedding band on. It cut through the nerves and tension we were sharing - good nerves and tension, but it broke it and suddenly we were who we always were and still are - full of mirth and love for each other.

Then there's the picture of Cal on Rob's shoulders, such love and happiness radiating from both of them.

There's a picture of me with my best friends from college, Kate and Jenny laughing hysterically at Kate's inability to pucker her mouth.

And there's this one:

Me and my "See-Stars". I've got a couple other photos of us from over the years, but this one is my favorite.

Of everyone in my family Mary was perhaps the most accepting of Rob into my life. She knew good men from bad, having had been in some troublesome relationships herself. And it never bothered or mattered to her that he was Jewish. It was a non-thought, much like how she loved and accepted my friends regardless of their sexuality. It was never an issue or a question. These "differences" from how she lived her life had no bearing on their quality as a human being.

She was the one person I didn't have to ask to respect me - she always did. She never judged, never preached, never made anyone that I know feel less than equal to her. (And here we come to the rambling part...)

Something happened over the weekend with my family. I don't want to get into too many details, but someone said something I found extremely offensive at a gathering and I lost my shit. I've since apologized to this person for not being able to discuss my emotional upset in a calm and rational matter at the time and she's apologized for the anti-Semitic comment she made. I haven't apologized to the hosts yet, because one of them sent me a text the next day that I am still trying to see with a calmed, rational mind - because each time I read it I just get angry.

Words carry weight, and where most of my family has numbed themselves into being the type of person that can let them roll off their back I am not. A derogatory comment, an insult still wounds me. I realize that I'm no saint, I curse too much and I am sure that my more religious members of my family are offended when I blaspheme. But they have not spoken to me, rationally or emotionally, to express their offense. If anyone ever told me, "You know it really offends me when you take God/Jesus' name in vain. Please don't do that in front of me anymore" I would respond "I will do my best."

It seems though my family and I are at odds over how we all speak when in each others presence. And to that end, I have to make a choice. I can choose to continue to put myself in situations that have the potential to cause an emotional outburst like the one I had over the weekend, or I can choose to not put myself in these situations. I've been choosing the former for a long time, having made numerous attempts with the majority of my family asking them to respect me by trying to curb some of their language which I find offensive.

Albert Einstein is attributed with saying: "Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." (I can't find a vetted source other than this page, but it's one of those quotes I remember from my youth and sincerely hope is correct.)

I love my family very very much. If they needed my blood, or an organ or bone marrow I would gladly give them what I could. I just don't think I can be around them right now. I don't know when I can rejoin them, or if I ever will be able to. I've been putting myself in the same situation time and time again for longer than I want to admit - praying that one day it will suddenly change and everyone and everything will be like it was when I was growing up. But it won't. Because I'm not the same person as that child that idolized her big brothers and sisters. And I wonder if it's them that changed or if it was me.
I've lived across the country away from the ease and comfort of family. I survived, I grew up. I married outside my faith. And with my husband I have found a love I never thought I would ever have or deserve. It is not perfect, but over the years together we've found ways to communicate better, how to make our relationship easier and happier. Before Rob I used to get so lonely that I would pray to God - let me find someone to share my life with and you can take my voice, I'll never need to perform or sing again if only you let me not be so alone. And six years ago I met a man who would never make me choose.

We may not have a lot. We may struggle now and then to make ends meet. But we have love in abundance, and we always manage to have enough. And that is all we need.

Day 105

The other day my cousin posted the following on her facebook page:

 

I checked it out and was moved to tears, because some of these people have such blind faith. And their positive attitude is commendable, and reminded me of Mary, particularly the one that says, "I will never quit. Period."

She never quit fighting. Even on life support, she kept trying to live. And then we told her it was okay to let go, that her body was tired and her soul should be free. And that's how she left us. Never having quit, only at the end asking for help.

I meant to post this over the weekend, but it was somewhat tumultuous and I didn't get a chance.