No, Not Any Easier

Having nearly finished with "Breast Cancer Awareness" month, now we move on to the holiday season. I just want to ignore it. Make it go away please.
Being there again for the memorial service wasn't too too bad. Well, bearable. But the dispersal of the ashes just doesn't bear thinking about. How can you stand at the top of a sand dune and watch as the remains of your first born child blow off in the wind? No, not good at all.

The beginning

Maybe I should go back to the beginning. Back to before the diagnosis. Back to when life was relatively good.
It was Christmas 2004 and E. came as she usually did. She seemed to me a bit low, maybe a bit overweight, not her usual self. I wondered if it was to do with the boy friend, as he hadn't come. Maybe she would rather be with him for the holidays. I thought if she wanted to talk, she would.
I should have tackled it. She went back to London and off to the GP to have the symptom checked. He immediately sent her to see a hospital consultant who ordered a biopsy. Oh well, I thought, it's probably just cysts at her age. We have a family history of cysts. Shall I come, I asked. No, let's see what the results are. I didn't worry too much. But they asked her to come in again for the results. I went then. She'll be worried, even though it's nothing.
I arrived 22 February 2005 and we went straight to the hospital. Wait. The nurse called us in to see the breast surgeon. "I'm afraid it's cancer", she said. We were stunned. One usually fears the worst and it turns out all right. Why wasn't it happening that way?
She talked about doing the chemotherapy first and then surgery. It would have to be a mastectomy. Then radiation. "Let's get on with it" E. said.
We went home and cried. I told her "It will be all right but I don't want you to have to go through this. It should be me not you" "No" she said, "I would feel worse if it was you."

Favourites

These are a few of her favourite things -- the things that give me gut wrench when I see them or hear them mentioned:

Joyce Grenfell ("Mrs. Moss wins a rabbit at a raffle" was her party piece)
Cheerios (plain ones)
Eddie Izzard -- www.eddieizzard.com
cats (and most other animals)
"Mutts" cartoons -- muttscomics.com
Annie's mac and cheese ("Bernie Bunny")
"Charmed" and "Buffy" TV series
pistachios
avocado
Michael Palin's travel programmes and books -- www.palinstravels.co.uk
candy corn
"Chalet School" series by Elinor Brent-Dyer -- www.chaletschool.org.uk
Guides and Guiding -- www.girlguiding.org.uk
"Lone Pine" series by Malcolm Saville
Holy Island -- www.lindisfarne.org.uk
"Swallows and Amazons" series by Arthur Ransome
opera -- www.leedsyouthopera.co.uk
gardening
gamelan
"Miss Marple" TV series - with Joan Hickson
knitting
Switzerland - Lake Lucerne
singing
"Doctor Who", "Torchwood", "Battlestar Galactica", "Red Dwarf" and other sci-fi TV series
theatre
"Mitford" novels by Jan Karon
chouquettes from Paul's chain in London
"Amelia Peabody" series by Elizabeth Peters
cranberry juice
the colour green

Undone redux

A friend wrote me recently to commiserate on my loss. She lost a son and grandson a few years back. So there was no twaddle about how you'll get over it and so on. She said it does get less painful but there is no answer to the question "why?"
One of the nurses who helped us make it possible for her to die at home had also lost an adult son. She said she still just wanted to scream and scream.

At the end when nurses were doing unspeakable things to her, they would tell her how brave she was (as if she had a choice) She said "I don't want to be brave!" That was one of the last things she said.

Shards

The earth shattered.
A huge hole but it did not swallow me - not yet.

Nothing is like it was -- only shadows.
A dark gray wash covers everything.

Others can see a different reality.
I remember what once was and cannot forget.

The old unease has been there too long.
Did I know even in the beginning?
Did I know the crab would dig in its claws?
Did I know it would never go away until it had won?

The pain, once numb, has throbbed back to life.
I push it down again and again but it is still there.

Another day

Well, I was hoping that getting back to work would occupy my mind somewhat and keep me busy. But, as luck would have it, we are at a slow period so there's not much to do. What work does come through I have to save for the part-timers, who I also have to train.
A few episodes of sad memories yesterday and today. I am also concerned for my son. How does one cope with the loss of a sibling?
Not looking forward to the next holiday season. Can we just ignore it, please. No, I don't even want to be taken in by cousins -- they will have all their children around them. It's hard to get used to being a family of three and not four.

I dislike the inconvenience of winter weather -- all that shoveling and navigating on icy surfaces. But at least it's invigorating.
It's much too hot. Why is excessive heat so depressing? No sleep. Sweatiness. Humidity makes it hard to breathe.
This was the summer of our discontent. They say that losing a parent is like losing your past but losing a child is losing your future. But it's losing the past too. I see a slide show in my mind of memories. Some -- the most recent -- I would like to forget.
They say it gets easier over time. Maybe so. But there are so many things that will never be now. That's the future she was robbed of.
William Penn said that death was simply moving from time to eternity. Interesting thought. Going from the dimension of time to one of eternity, becoming free of the constraints of time. No more worrying about appointments, running late, growing older, regretting the past, worrying about the future.