I’ve been away since the start of 2016 because I’ve suffered a few health setbacks, and also because I’ve been pretty busy working on my new ebook.
A few thoughts brought me back today. One of which was the death of my father-in-law. He was 54 when he passed shortly after undergoing heart surgery on December 20, 2009. Why the sudden need to remember him? I’m not exactly sure. For one thing, my ex-husband began staying with me a week-or-so ago. Quite naturally, we began talking all about his dad and what I went through in the process of taking care of the man.
I loved him as if he were my own father. I felt for this man more than I felt for my biological family. For seven years I took care of him. Now, I find myself in the strange position of missing him.
The People We Lose
Perhaps is’s the cancer, maybe it’s the nostalgia, but within me I find myself thinking of everyone who lost someone this week to my disease.
So far, Alan Rickman, David Bowie, Lemmy from Motorhead, and Rene Angelil (Celine Dion’s husband of 22 years) have all died this week of various versions of my disease. So, all in all, there is plenty reason for me to have my thoughts firmly locked on that 54-year-old man. I miss him (as the song goes) like the deserts miss the rain.
For seven years I took care of him. Everything he needed, I was there. Ironically, it wasn’t cancer that claimed his life, diabetes did. He’d acquired the disease in his twenties (early twenties if I remember right) and never really took care of himself or tended to his disease. Quickly, it took a hold of him that I’d work for almost a decade to loosen.
Since he passed, I’ve lost other people I’ve cared deeply about. One of them was Harla. This woman was my mother/sister/friend. She took care of me and worried about me like no one has before her. I love her very much and can’t wait to see her again. I know pain is a bit part of the human condition, but does that mean that death is also? I wonder this tonight as I sit here typing this.
Will the loss I feel in my heart ever be enough? Will God ever decide he’s ended the existence of enough people? That, I don’t know. I’m aware that one day it will be my kids talking to strangers about the way it felt to lose their mom. One day, that’ll be my destiny. Today, it’s not. Today, I’m still here.
I wanted to keep this all to myself and write something uplifting and meaningful. Instead, I went with my gut and talked all about what loss feels like. Maybe it was losing Professor Snape to my disease. Maybe, this was all triggered by the loss of the Goblin King. I can’t say for sure. I just know that if you’re alive, you are lucky to be.
One day cancer will claim my life. I don’t know nor do I care what the papers say. I’ll still only be me on that day. I won’t put on airs or pretend to be anyone else than I am right now. God will be the great comforter, just as he is now, and all will be right with the world soon again.
Everything I write about comes from my own life. I’m a bit afraid of what’ll happen when I run out of material. What will I write about when I’ve beaten cancer? The logical answer is to write about the journey toward getting there. But is that as interesting as the journey before it?
Time will only tell.