Lately, I have been stressed and even a tad bit depressed (thanks to crazy cat lady that is under control), what with the impending strike, arguing and fighting with family, being annoyed by people who have no business annoying me and stuffing my face with any food that’s not glued down…its been a rough week.
But last night as I was driving home from dropping off Ms. J I got a phone call from my mom. Biker dude – A.K.A Gary, her husband has taken a turn for the worse. He is dying – he has cancer of the throat. Chemo didn’t work and it is spreading rapidly. He is mostly unresponsive and has suffered from a few seizures. She was a mess. This man she has loved for over half of my life and realistically, most of hers as well, will be dead in a very short time.
Now I am not even going to try to pretend like his passing will really have a huge effect on me personally because in reality we aren’t close. I never really enjoyed his company and we are complete opposite people in every way possible. However, I love my mother and she loves him, so for her – my heart is breaking. I wish I could make him better so she did not have to suffer.
There is nothing worse as a child then hearing or seeing your parents crying. The first time I saw this I was 6. I came home from shopping with my mom – back in the day when my parents were still together – and I walked into our living room to my dad standing by the big picture window, and my brother sitting on our couch, crying. This is one of my earliest memories – a clear memory, as clear as my memory of my prom or University graduation. But instead of a happy one, it is one that made me realize my father was vulnerable. He was crying because his father, my poppy, had lost his battle with diabetes (back in the 80’s the diagnosis wasn’t as good as it is now). He’d been in the hospital for weeks and my grandmother was now a widow. I don’t know where she was or what happened next, but I started crying before I even knew what happened. My father was in tears. Whatever the news, it couldn’t be good.
The last time I saw my father cry was at my grandma’s funeral a few months ago, I was 30 – and even then, it was a just a few tears. He had prepared himself for her death – she was ill for many years and we were all just grateful she was in no more pain and believed fully that she was with my poppy – where she wanted to be.
But hearing my mom cry last night, stirred something different in me. I felt sad. But I felt useless. I felt like there was nothing I could do. I offered to pull onto the highway and drive to Bobcaygeon right then and there, but she didn’t need that. She is resound to living out his last few days (hours?) with him alone. I understand that and I respect it too. But as an adult woman who has experienced true love I hate the idea of someone losing someone they adore. I know that when he passes she will call and I will hop on the highway and play the role of dutiful daughter, doing everything she wants and needs and comforting her the way she will need me to – but until then, I will sit here, waiting for my phone to ring and reminding myself to be grateful for all the amazing people I have in my life and all the greatness I have to celebrate!
It’s Friday, I love Fridays. I get a weekend with newbie! I’m going to enjoy every moment of it! It’s true that life is short and we never know how long we have with people, so I will smile when newbie gets in my car, I will kiss him and say hello and wash this whole week off of the both of us – so we can have a great time and enjoy each other the way we should!