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.