Someone else's loss

I was going to write a post about living in the happy medium, about finding the bliss in the everyday; or something similar and altogether happy and pleasant and optimistic. I just can’t seem to pull it out right now.

I found out that another wonderful person has given up her tenure on this planet of ours this morning, and I just can’t be happy today.

I did not pay much attention to cancer until it came knocking on my door. Granted, I was young, so I had some semblance of an excuse. I had watched both of my great-grandmothers languish under the weight of the disease; I had helped to care for them both, but one in particular. I was a young teen, she was my favorite person in the world right then, and I watch her struggle valiantly first for life, and then for dignity. I was familiar, I understood, I was sympathetic-- before I had to deal with it myself.

Then I had to deal with it myself. I was a mess, but I made it through.

This year I will celebrate my ten year anniversary of living cancer free. They said that it would be back in less than three years, but it was not. They said it would impact my fertility—and it did—but I had another wonderful son. They said that I would deal with this my entire life, but what they didn’t know is that I wouldn’t deal with it personally—I would sit back and watch as others struggled and fought. I would sit back and watch, knowing exactly how hard you fight, how hard it is, how much it sucks.

First, it was horrific, but… what’s the word? Understandable? Reasonable? Rational? It was an aunt. She passed. A step-grandfather. He passed. A great-aunt. She passed as well. I was sad, but I was prepared for the deaths of those who are older than me in my family. It was untimely, but it was inevitable too.

Then it became unreasonable. A friend’s child. A former co-worker’s young granddaughter. A mentor’s wife.


I also had to watch as others—families and friends-- fought and won. I had to watch as people I loved had scares.

You could say I have something akin to survivor’s guilt. I want to be alive—I want to live as long as possible. I want to watch my children grow. I want to be productive. I want to do so many things. It’s not like I want to die.

But why them? Why is it that I remain, and a four year old child dies? Why is it that my husband has his wife, and someone else does not have his wife tonight? Despite the fact that I am more than happy to be here (and will remain that way for the rest of my days); I cannot understand why these individuals are not here, now, with us.

It pisses me off. It rips at my gut. It makes me want to punch and scream and cry and run away, all at once. Instead, I hug my children, and I hug my husband, and I send all of the positive energy my being can possess out into the world, so that the suffering of the grieving may ease. It’s the least I can do.