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.