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.

Day 99

We've made it nearly 100 days. Sometimes it feels more like 100 years. And other times it feels like a minute ago that I stood at your side and told you it was okay to let go. Time and life are funny like that.

I'll always remember you, Mary. Your last days. The last conversation we had, when you finally broke down and said you needed help, that you couldn't do it on your own any longer. God heard you. And He answered you. If ever I doubt that there is something beyond, that prayers aren't heard I will remember that day. The day your soul cried to your Maker and was finally, at last, heard. Not in the way we wanted it answered, but you, Dear Heart, were called.

We say, "God doesn't give us more than we can handle." And I know you questioned why God handed you so much crap to deal and life with. But that's because you needed to see that you had strength you never dreamt you could have. And when at last you reached the pinnacle of your strength God took your burden away so you could be free.

I love you forever Seestar. I wish you were still here, because I need your advice. I can talk to the ether, cry at your grave, but I want to hear your voice. I want a conversation with you. You understood me when no one else in our family did. You accepted my friends, my husband and never tried to change any of them. You got it, what life should really be about, and I miss talking to you about that stuff, and about nothing at all.

I remember last year, coming over when you were first sick and going through your treatments. Levi answered the door, said you were in bed resting, and I went in and crawled in bed with my big sister, my godmother. And we lay there and talked and laughed for the entire afternoon. I don't remember the conversation per say, I just remember the feeling - peace and happiness and laughter and love.

And GOD - this is turning into such a DOWNER.

Okay - so the thing is this (and this is the thing): On a regular basis, when I can occupy my mind with other things I don't feel sad. I've tried to keep busy so I don't get depressed, or so struck by grief that I can't move. I think I mentioned last post about seeing life/time as a flowing river, it's constantly changing and I refuse to become a stagnant person. Most people resist change, fight against the inevitable, that life and the world is ALWAYS changing around us. We can choose to adapt and make the transitions a little easier, or we can try and force time to stand still.

Back when I was dating my now husband he was stuck in this position, resisting the changes around him that he had no control over. I'd like to think that my attitude towards life (bending like a reed in the wind, vs using all your energy to fight something that is going to happen anyway) helped him move forward. And after 6 years, while he still gets in funks, they are much less intense and frequent. His mom told me before we got married that she's never seen anyone able to calm him like I do. So I guess I can be a good influence. Sometimes. ;)

I don't even know where I was going from the beginning of this entry, so I guess it's just like life - we never wind up on the path we originally intended on. Well some people do. Not me.

And speaking of paths, I am going to try living more outside of my comfort zone. There's a Dirty Girl mud run event in September that I am going to sign up for, and a Color Run (5k) in August too. Not that I'm a runner, or even a distance runner. I can get about a quarter of a mile and then my heart feels like its going to explode out of my chest wall like an alien child. But I need to challenge myself. Because without goals to reach for and challenges to overcome we let our lives become stagnant, and I won't be that person.

Day 94

This past Saturday was the first Komen Race for the Cure without Mary. And while I have huge issues with what Komen really uses it's charitable contributions for I went and I walked (without registering because after reading this article I REFUSE to give them a single penny! Even with that article being 2 years old I am still disgusted.).

It was another first. And having kept busy and gotten through nearly an entire week without an episode of grief induced tears I was unable to keep it together initially. Mom made tee shirts for all of us. Saturday morning was the first time I saw them. Cue tears. Rob was still asleep and just wanted to meet my family at the "finish line" so I left him home and ventured over to Delaware Park. I found my parents and nieces and nephew. When I got to the rose garden a family asked if I would take a picture for them and after I asked the survivor in the group if I could give her a hug, explaining that I'd lost my sister in March.

Strangers, this women held me tight and let me cry for a minute on her shoulder. I told her to keep getting checked and she said she did. Thank you Stranger for that hug.

And when I saw Levi's girlfriend Amanda, I almost lost it again, because standing there, with her pink ribbon sticker on her cheek I saw Mary. A shorter version of my sister, but the resemblance just floored me.

I walked the full 5k with my Dad and niece Danielle. We had a good time overall and Rob was indeed there to greet us at the finish line with the rest of my family.

So that was Saturday. And this is today. And today is yet another first. The first recurrence of my sister Dawn's breast cancer. I don't know the full story, but she or doctor noticed a lump on the back of her neck and a PET scan was ordered, earlier than the standard follow up one she was supposed to get in July. Word came back today - it's a progression of her disease and she will be going in for an MRI to determine how they will treat this. She has been in remission for less than 6 months. It's a blow, and until the MRI is done we won't know how extensive of a blow this is.

I am trying to stay optimistic, and hopeful that there is only this one new lesion and they can do a quick surgery to remove it (if it's a lymph node) followed by a targeted burst of radiation and send Dawn on her way (while still continuing the Herceptin and newly added Tamoxifen). But we'll see. In the meantime I try and keep my faith (which contrary to what my family may think I do have - it's just not a man-indoctrined force-fed Roman Catholicism).

So there's that to deal with. But we march on, continuing our lives, forcing one foot in front of the other each day. One of the most beautiful things about life is its fluidity. I'm a fire sign, but drawn to water, the ebbs and flows, it's constant motion, reminding me to never remain stagnant. Guess that's one of the reasons I find myself married to a Pisces.

Day 80

 Well blog-o-sphere it's been a busy week or so. Entering tech for my show (the week leading up to opening night) is grueling and exhausting. It was so much easier when I was in my 20s (and didn't have a 9-5 40 hour work week). But keeping so busy and exhausted has occupied my mind and made things seem more "normal". And quickly checking on the stats of this blog I saw I had a couple readers from Russia? If you're still reading, Спасибо!

Memorial Day has come and gone, and because our rehearsal started early that day I had to miss Levi's last parade. And like his concert a few weeks ago I consider it a curse/blessing, in that I continue to break my promise to Mary, but also don't have to dwell on the fact that she's not there. Memorial Day, as an adult in Buffalo will always be going to that parade and then heading over to Mary and Dan's house for a BBQ and pool party if the weather was nice enough. A few years ago, having moved out of my parent's house without a plan on where to live next Mary and Dan let me crash on their couch for a couple of weeks until I figured my shit out. Memorial Day happened to fall during that time and Mary plied me with so much liquor I was passed out by 6. She took pictures of me snoozing on her sofa she thought it was so funny.

The Komen race is next weekend though, and that I will be there for - tissues in hand I'm sure. I started using her shirt from last year, "Mary's Hope for All" as my go to "make-up" shirt in October, and putting it on this week as I get ready for the night's run brings her spirit to me. There have been a LOT of rainbows in the sky lately, every one reminding me of her, our Sunshine, our Rainbow Girl.

And I think about her every night when we close the show, singing a reprise of "Any Dream Will Do". And I feel comforted, because I know her spirit, or essense, or energy, or whatever is still out there that isn't, was never, part of her physical self, is with me, for at least that one moment. I feel it.

And progress, because I made it this far into my post without welling up with tears. I told some of my castmates a week or so ago about the meaning behind 'Close Every Door' - how, when you look at the lyrics you realize that the song isn't just about Joseph keeping his faith, but it's about the promise G-d made to the Jews, and their belief that no matter how bad it gets for them, they have a covenant with Him, and will be given a Land free from persecution. In particular, the last verse has a direct reference to the Holocaust "Just give me a number instead of a name, Destroy me completely and throw me away." It's something I was told *cough*cough* years ago when I first performed in the show. Our Jacob was real life father to Joseph and one of the other brothers(who also played the butler). He was also a Christian minister - even offered to give me religious education work since rehearsals interfered so much my church was debating "holding me back" 1 year from my confirmation. SIDE NOTE: I told my mother to explain to the head of program that I was in BIBLICAL SHOW, and if they held me back she could kiss my being confirmed out the window - this may be one of reasons why I to this day have issues with the Catholic Church, but I digress).

Anyway, after we talked about it, I noticed the smallest change in these people when singing this show. And they have elevated it from a beautiful song to something really moving and breathtaking. And last night I focused on the music during an instrumental break in the song and realized the violin, so soulful, was chosen to stand out at that moment for a reason. It's the instrument I associate with a Jewish ghetto, crying to G-d 'please don't forsake us, you promised us a place of peace and acceptance!'. And once more I was moved. - So for those naysayers that think Andrew Lloyd Webber is a hack (and I'll admit I've been one of those people at various points in my life). Listen to that song now, and tell me he's a hack.

I get emotional during "Any Dream Will Do" for other reasons. More personal -we had just started rehearsals for "Joseph..." when Mary was in ICU. And a day or two before she died we had a vocal rehearsal, my two other Narrators and our Joseph. I had my phone out, praying that I wouldn't get a text that she'd taken a turn for the worst and thanking G-d that our music director lived less than 5 minutes from the hospital. I lost my shit many times during that rehearsal even though I tried hard to keep it together. But the lyrics kept washing over me, symbolism that matched descriptions of my See-Star. And now she is free from pain and suffering I let those lyrics continue to wash over me, and get choked up not necessarily from sorrow, but from the beauty of her life and the freedom she now experiences, and a longing to one day be free like her too.

So today, I leave you with these lyrics, in case you don't know the show (and here's a link to the Donny Osmond version in case you want to watch/hear it)

I closed my eyes, drew back the curtain
To see for certain what I thought I knew.
Far far away someone was weeping
But the world was sleeping.
Any dream will do.

I wore my coat with golden lining,
Bright colors shining, wonderful and new.
And in the East the dawn was breaking,
And the world was waking.
Any dream will do.

A crash of drums, a flash of light,
My golden coat flew out of sight!
The colors faded into darkness.
I was left alone.

May I return to the beginning?
The light is dimming and the dream is too.
The world and I, we are still waiting,
Still hesitating.
Any dream will do.

Still hesitating.
Any dream will do.

Day 71

Today I had my appt to get the results of my MRI from earlier this month. Not that I was worried that anything would show up, but I guess subconsciously I must have been because I had a stomachache starting at 4 this morning.

Long story short the MRI came back negative. Boobies are good to go and I am all set until November's mammogram. But as I sat in the examination room waiting for a rep from Roswell's Blood Bank (to explain about donating 3 vials of blood to their bank for future research), I starting thinking about Mary and how she made sure that I let her know my mammogram results last November. And of course tears filled my eyes because I can't text her about today's test results. 

And the weight of it, the anger and frustration and feeling of my own uselessness and ineptitude causes as much pain as her loss. I donated my blood samples, hoping that someone smarter than I am will use them and help figure out how to better battle cancer. 

I also started thinking again of how utterly unfair life can be. Mary didn't do a thing to deserve her illness. She missed her son's last high school concert, and from what my brother and parents said Levi just rocked it. And she wasn't there. Not in a tangible way at least. And she missed seeing him win first place as Drum Major at his last competition Saturday. In what world is it fair that her son at 17 should not have his mother there? They will never dance at his wedding.

I remember her last week alive over at my parents house, asking these questions, and my brother Mark, religious nut that he is saying something along the lines of, "life isn't fair. Who are we to judge God's plan?" I almost punched him in the face. I will question all I want to. Doesn't make my faith any less valid, just different.

This weekend camping, I had a quiet talk with my brother Tim. It was simple and short, he said he missed her everyday and I told him I did too and we both admitted to still crying. And then we moved on to brighter subjects. And when I told Mark Sunday afternoon he said that he doesn't cry because he knows she is with "Our Lord". For the record my God is different than Mark's. And when he suggested I go to counseling I again wanted to smack him in his righteous face. Because I really really resent people dictating what I should do with my life. 

I am allowed to mourn. I believe that there is more than this life but I am still allowed to miss my Mary, and cry and feel sorrow. Because she isn't here. And she never will be again. And I(we) go on and experience life without her. Moments happen where we wish we could talk with her and hear her reply. Because crazy or not I still talk to her, but what I miss is the interaction, the response, the laughter, the hugs. And I always will.