Being in my predicament or situation or whatever you'd like to call it has a striking resemblance to another family member of mine. My mom. Back in 1993 my mom was diagnosed with lung cancer. When I first heard the diagnosis I didn't know what to think. I was 16 years old. How do you process that kind of information? I remember telling a friend at the golf course before I was about to go out for a loop as a caddy one morning. It was so surreal. As the months went on my mom started to deteriorate. It wasn't like it happened overnight but I saw over time that she wasn't her anymore. It was terrifying. She was given 6 months to live and somehow managed 18 because she wanted so badly to see me and my brother graduate high school. She missed it by 2 months. 2 MONTHS! I can't even begin to write out a list of all the things I want to see.
When all this was happening I was completely unable to talk about it. I might have mentioned it to friends here and there, but I never got out any emotions except through poems, which is why I need to write a blog. Because I'm afraid of my own vulnerability. I remember being in the hospital on my birthday while my mom was going through chemotherapy....similar to what I'm going through now. Can this get any more frightening? I finally met a woman, someone who I decided to marry, whom I love more than I love myself. I never thought that would have ever been possible. And she would do anything for me. And so would her family and my family and my friends and my co-workers. It is so humbling to see everyone come out in support. I feel like I'm making a grand appearance and everyone has come out to see it.
Well to get back to my mom, on Easter Sunday in 1995 I woke up late to go to work. I worked at Ronnie Rexall, a local pharmacy. I would get in early and put together the Sunday New York Times. Well my dad stormed into my room irate that I hadn't left the house yet. I threw on my clothes without haste an darted downstairs to the front door. But before leaving the house I said goodbye to my mom. She was awake or so it seemed. Her head was bobbing from side to side. I would like to think that she said I love you or goodbye but to be quite honest, I don't remember much of that moment.
I got to work and started my job. The day was going along like it had every Sunday before this one. That was until my dad came walking in the door. He was flush red in the face and said that he needed to speak with me outside. I looked over at my boss who nodded and we retreated outside. My dad then lay the bombshell that my mom had passed away. She was 49, I told him I had to go back to work. I had no idea how to process this information. He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me to the car. We drove home silently. When we got in the house I did something I will never do again. I walked into the room my mom was in and said goodbye again. She was not her. It was just a shell of her. I still can't believe I did it. Whenever people ask "have you ever seen a dead person?" I never answer. Probably because I don't want them to know who it was I saw.
I left the room and sat upstairs with my brother and moms best friend. She tried reassuring us everything would be okay. This was all while the coroner came to get her. You know how I got through that day? I was sitting on my front porch, in my worst moment and without asking or calling or giving any idea that this event had occurred, two friends drove down my driveway (Bryan Ostendorf and Peter O'Neill). I can't thank those two enough. Right then and there I felt saved. But looking back on it, as much as I needed saving, I think my brother and my dad needed it more. So beyond making it through for my wife and family and friends and co-workers I'm making it through for my brother and dad. I wasn't strong enough to be strong for them then, but I can sure as hell be strong enough for them now. I'm sorry that I distanced myself and couldn't communicate. But that can't happen anymore. It won't. I love you two too much. And as sad and lonely as I feel writing this journal at 12:15AM on a Saturday evening in my hospital bed, I know I got you two...and I feel better.
No comments:
Post a Comment