We're closing in on October 5th here, which many of the people who might sporadically read the blog should recognize as the date my sister Erin finally lost her battle with cancer. Seven years ago, which isn't an anniversary number that carries any added gravity on its own, but just seems like such a long time for us to have been without her now.
Yesterday I went to see the movie "50/50" with Nephew #1. It felt more than serendipitous for that movie to be released within a week of the date she died, so I really wanted to go this weekend, but I didn't want to alone. Ideally I would have gone with my sister but it was her weekend to work and I was too anxious to see it to wait for another time. Luckily Nephew #1 got off his McDonald's shift in time to make a matinee (and when did Andover matinee prices go up to $7.00, by the way?), and he really would have been the next best choice for me as far as who I'd see it with; after all, I'm his godfather and she was his godmother. He was ten years old when it was all happening and a pretty bright ten at that, which meant he was all too aware of what was going on at the time. After seeing the movie -- which is excellent, by the way, if you can stand more than a few jokes about medicinal marijuana -- I wanted to ask him how much he remembered about that time. But he's a senior now and had to read "Beowulf" over the weekend, so he had places to be. Yeesh. Can I just say how glad I am I'm not the student anymore?
I really expected this year was going to be acutely painful for me, with the recent death of my dog still compounding all of my emotion related to this. But so far that hasn't really been the case, and honestly I'm kind of disappointed by that. A part of me wants the hurt. Feeling that pain again brings me back to that experience with real clarity. That specific October pain is now a part of my relationship with her, and if time is separating me from that and the pain is beginning to fade, it makes me a little concerned to think it will be something else I might have to face giving up eventually. And you know, damn it, I've already had quite a bit taken from me here as it is.
I was working this out yesterday over e-mail with a friend of mine, who pointed out that maybe, just maybe, Erin would probably be looking down about now and wishing I would just try being happy instead of looking for ways to trigger the pain again just for the sake of reliving it. Which brings us to this year's quotation. Last year I posted a short excerpt from the memoir manuscript I wrote in the aftermath of the whole experience, and decided this year I would again. To reflect the idea that maybe (!) I'm better off looking for happy instead of hurt, I'm presenting a passage that shows my cousin trying to make that same point with me several years ago, right in the middle of everything while it was happening.
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I was dreading summer vacation that year since I was fully expecting Erin to die before the fall, but at the same time I couldn’t wait to get out of school. As the year ended I was caught in a pattern of bizarre dreams, many of which were all too fresh in my memory after waking. A lot of these dreams had a recurring theme -- the people in my life were pitying me behind my back, but few ever stepped forth to do or say anything about it. On rare occasions someone would, doing exactly what I needed even though I hadn’t known myself that I needed it. It felt so comforting to know someone cared, even if it was only in a dream.
But too often this wasn’t happening in the real world, and this misplaced feeling of abandonment carried over into my daily life. As the last day of school drew closer I became increasingly withdrawn, ignoring several of my friends, not wanting to give them the chance to do it to me first. I convinced myself most of the people at school weren’t going to be there for me and weren’t worth the time or effort it would take for me to hate them over it. I bitterly thought I was doing them a favor by cutting them off, which would make it easier for them to pretend my problems and I didn’t exist, saving them the trouble of making promises of support they never intended to keep.
The last day of school was a harsh reminder of the previous year when Erin’s cancer had returned, so I just wanted to pack my classroom and get the holy hell out of there. I spent most of the day plugged into my iPod, a perfect way to completely ignore people. If someone tried to talk to me, all I had to do was give them a blank stare and say “What?” which was usually met with a laugh and a dismissive wave. I couldn’t avoid everyone though, and a few people got past my defenses. They wouldn’t simply wish me a good summer, but included some generic attempt at wisdom, like “Enjoy the time you have with your sister,” or “I hope your family has a lot of good times together.” Which I usually took as “Thank God I’m not you.”
Was it fair for me to categorically write people off this way? Not at all. There were definitely cases where it applied, but it was far from being as universal as I made myself believe. But that’s where I was. Anger feels better than despondency. It’s a dark way to look at things, but it’s true.
From: Kelly
Date: June 5, 2004
I don't see anything so weird about feeling less close with people who really can’t have any idea what you're going through, no matter how nice they are and how much they want to help. I'm sure it's hard to get nothing but pity from people who probably would rather be anywhere than standing there thinking about what to say. That doesn't mean they don't care about you, it's just uncomfortable for people to go from daily banter to serious issues. So maybe you're catching weird vibes from others and that’s what is making you avoid them. It might not be you, or at least not all you. Anyway, God knows you have every right to be having a difficult time dealing emotionally with everything and to go back and forth between something so serious as Erin's cancer and daily conversation. So don't beat yourself up. I just hope you aren't keeping yourself from enjoying everyday things. I'm sure Erin would want you to continue to have normal daily pleasures such as moronic and unimportant fun conversation with your friends.
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Okay, so you see what I mean about pain? Just pray you never experience anything like my family had to go through. It's not pretty.
But now maybe this week I'm just going to acknowledge that this awful thing happened once, and that it more or less dismantled what my life was at the time. But instead of dwelling on it, I'm just going to keep my head up and notice that most of life and the world surrounding me now really isn't all that bad.
After all, life happens the way it does, and sometimes it sucks. But we keep on living it anyway, because sometimes it doesn't.
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