I don't expect anyone to read this. I'm fine with that. I just wanted someplace to dump some thoughts and keep some sort of record of my life. I'm horrible at record keeping. Horrible at keeping in touch with people. Almost three years ago I left behind a circle of great friends to move back home to Hawaii. We said goodbye with promises of visits and keeping in touch. No one's been to visit. I see them occasionally when I have to travel to the mainland on business or can do a weekend stopover on the way back from visiting family in the Midwest. I get a once in awhile phone call...sometimes I see someone online and we can chat. Part of me knows that the ones that were true friends will always be true friends, even though they've moved on with their lives...bought houses, gotten married, planning kids. But it still hurts. I've had fantasies of buying a huge parcel of land somewhere and rounding up all the important people in my life and giving them homes on that land so we can all be together. Totally unrealistic, but a nice thought just the same.
One of these friends has a blog and I've been keeping track of her that way. It's a nice way to peep in on her life and make sure everything is alright. It's very passive. It seems to be comfortable for her. I've watched her circle of friends grow in her new environment and I'm so happy her life is on the right track. Yet, I miss her. A lot.
Another friend (not to sound all teenagery, but my very bestest friend in the whole wide world) started blogging to cope with a major loss in her life. She suggested I do the same. Said it was easy enough. Point, click, type, done. So here I am. Dumping out my thoughts into cyberspace where my identity is protected to discourage the stalkers and the crazies. Those of you who know me and are reading this may get to know me a little more than you wanted to. Those of you who don't know me and are reading this (not sure why, but ok) may think I'm totally whack. So what?
A little on the title of this blog. A few months after turning 35, my high school boyfriend happened to be in town with his daughter. We had dinner and got caught up on the last 15 years or so of our lives. We started talking about aging and I mentioned to him that I felt I had hit the pinnacle and it was a slow slide down to the afterlife from here. Defeatist? Yes. Pessimistic? Of course. I didn't realize how true it was.
Death and loss are a part of life. I understand that. But up until the last year, I had only the slightest experience with it. Nothing really first hand. Sure, family members have been dying off all my life, but they weren't close family members. Not really. Then...
Maggie died. Maggie was a dog. Not just a dog...a great dog. She was independent. She had attitude. She was warm and caring when she wanted and would let you know when she was done with the closeness. I respected that. She was a therapy dog. She was my parents' dog. Shortly after moving back home, my marriage was on the rocks and I was in a strange place. I couldn't open up to my parents very easily. Everyone knew something was up, but didn't want to force the issue. So I would go to my parents' house for refuge and Maggie would lay next to me...sometimes lay ON me (not really comfortable, since she was an 80 lb Bull Mastiff) and give me comfort. She passed away from cancer at the end of December 2005 and I'm still not over it. I dream of her often. Then...
I got re-married in the middle of 2006 and we took a trip Nebraska to see our families. We're both from there originally...funny, since we met in Hawaii, but that's a whole nother story I'm not going to get into here. :) His parents, sister and her family and his daughter live there. My brother still lives in Nebraska and my estranged biological mother does too, sort of. In an effort to see if there was anything worth salvaging of this supposed mother-daughter bond, we made plans to spend the day with her. It was a huge disaster. This woman is the woman that gave birth to me and it was all she could do to look me in the eye and acknowledge my presence. We ended up escaping early without a goodbye and I proceeded to go into a major depression. Nice way to start a marriage, huh? I went back into therapy and my husband tried to be there for me as I mourned the loss of this relationship. Then...
My father was diagnosed with prostate cancer. The doctors said it had already metastasized into his spine and the outlook was bleaker than bleak. As I sat there on the couch with my husband at my side and my father telling me he was dying I felt like my world was literally ending. Therapy sessions were stepped up to once a week. My therapist had to learn to become a grief counselor on the fly as we worked towards finding a place where I could handle it. The anger was unbelievable. I was scared. It colored every part of my life. I had nightmares. I had mood swings. I went numb. Then...
My best friend called from the mainland to tell me she'd been put on bedrest. She was pregnant with twins and having some difficulty so as a precaution they were putting her on strict bedrest. The hope was her being able to carry at least to 30 weeks, when the babies would have a better chance. A couple of weeks later they had to deliver the babies via c-section at just under 25 weeks. At the time, I really didn't understand what this meant. I was just so happy that they had two little girls and that my friend was ok. As the days went on, the real picture became clearer. This was not good. I felt so helpless already dealing with my dad's cancer and I was in the same geographical location as him. I told my husband that I felt even more helpless that I couldn't do anything for my friend from here. "Then don't be here," he said, "be there." Three days later I walked into her hospital room and heard the real news. And again, my world crumbled. These precious little lives that we had been so looking forward to being a part of would be ending before they could really get started. My husband flew out the next day and close friends and family gathered around to show our support and our love for these little girls that we would never get to know. It was the most heartbreaking thing I've ever lived through, but I was so glad I could be there for them and for my friend and her husband.
At this point, I was at my limit. No more pain, please, no more loss. I tried so hard not to shut down completely to preserve my sanity. My dad was off to Seattle to go to a cancer treatment center and find out what his options were. My friend's ordeal had taught me what the word "palliative" meant. That word kept coming up in relation to my dad and I did not like it. My parents called a few days later to tell me that the doctors here at home were wrong, to some extent. Yes, my father has prostate cancer, but no, it has not spread to his spine. It is still localized and therefore a prostatectomy (try saying that three times fast) is the best course of action and he will be considered cured. Unbelievable. I was so angry at the doctors here, I couldn't be happy for about a week. This was right before Christmas, so we celebrated through the holidays. I'm still mistrustful, though. I will not believe this is over until the surgery is done and I hear from them that there was nothing unusual about it. Then I can breathe a sigh of relief.
Then Simon died. Simon was my mom's dog and he went fast from lung cancer. He was a good dog and he had a long life. I know it was very difficult on my mom, but I can't help to think how much more difficult it would have been if things wouldn't have worked out for my dad. So that loss is tempered that way.
So, there's a little background. I promise to keep things shorter from here on out. A big thank you to Puddin' who had the original post still on her screen so I could recreate this after destroying it when I tried to put links in. Note to self: draft in Word first!
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