Tonight, tonight we put 2012 to rest. Goodbye, dumb year. In truth though, despite its going out on a sad note for me, it's not different than any other year. The calendar doesn't give a fuck, you know? A lot of shitty, depressing, terrible things went down in the world in 2012, but these things always happen every day of every year, they just take different forms and put different populations in the crossfire. I happened to experience personal sorrow in this year, and though I don't recommend it, it wasn't the first time, and I know it won't be the last time this happens. It's the inevitable downside of the richness of loving and being loved. Not to devalue the worth of Niki's life and our friendship at all - each loss is singular, and though I know I'll get over her death eventually, it's hard to imagine that being possible right now. Certainly not just because a new year is beginning. I believe that everyone's entitled to mourn at their own pace, and right now I'm feeling stuck, glacial even, but it's not like I think I own grief. It sure as hell won't own me. Everyone loses people and the beam doesn't stop to wait for any of us to get back on.
I just can't overlook that a lot of good happened, too. In addition to the everyday wonderfulness of life in my little family, with my soul mate and our boy
who is growing so fast and awesomely I can't breathe if I think about it too
hard, I got to go to a lot of places and have a lot of fun and celebrate with the people I love the most. New babies were born and others had birthdays or began gestating. The dreadful election season came to an end. I feel like, even if I missed one trip, one occasion, had never made it out of the zip code, I wouldn't have missed out on any of the big and important things, not really.
Anyway, I'm feeling the urge to write again, like I have a lot to say in general, in addition to an epic tribute I owe to an epic human being. And that will come in 2013.
For now, this is my song of 2012 (no matter that it's a compilation of songs that came out in 1991).
Monday, December 31, 2012
Thursday, December 27, 2012
What Do You Think This Is, Christmas?
My Christmas, you ask?
Well, there was some of this:
A LOT of this:
Not much of this:
But a ton of this:
So, heavy on the important stuff, really. All in all, a wonderful time. I felt hugged from the inside out, being around people who knew and loved me and didn't care that I couldn't be bothered to go outside much or even change out of PJs most of the time. The Santa Claus experiment was a smashing success, HR had the best time ever, and even though he was a downright booger about bedtime, that doesn't matter in retrospect because honestly, who could sleep with all the excitement? Plus he gave us the unexpected gift of being a dream on both long rides there and back, and if you've ever had a motion-sick, car-hating toddler, you know that is of a value above rubies.
We did some present exchanging, lots of talking, a bit of drinking, and we ate and ate, and ate some more. And though my body is crying for brown rice and veggies and a hot date with the treadmill, I have no regrets. Saturday we had the raucous get-together with my maternal relatives at Gram's, and it was awesome because it's the first year in a while that we were all there (save for one cousin) and now that there are three great-grandchildren, it really brings the holiday spirit back. Later that night Mike, my siblings and I got to go out for some grown-up bar time, and I had a chance to catch up with a dear old friend, someone who also knew Niki and who lost her own best friend far too young, and even though we kept the conversation mostly light, it felt healing to be together. On Christmas Eve my adorable great aunt had us over for lunch, and that is one invitation you'd never want to refuse. In conclusion, there was snow, there was love, and there was lasagna. What more could you ask for? The only problem is that it went by SO FAST. I looked forward to it for so long, and it feels like I just this second burst through the door with a contented sigh, my dad handing me a Gritty's Christmas Ale and my mom putting supper on the table. But actually it's almost a week later and I've got a full day of work behind me. There was a moment on Sunday afternoon when HR was enjoying some one-on-one Mammy time while the rest of us hit the pub for grub and football, and my sister leaned over, backlit by twinkle lights, and said, "I wish it would never be after Christmas." And it was hitting me so hard too, even then, that time was already slipping away. We are so obviously related.
Anyway, I have a million pictures to upload, a million loads of laundry to do, a million toys and books for which to find a home within my home (and a very happy boy to ping-pong among them) and I'm feeling just as grateful to have passed the last bunch of days, even as I'm sorry they are the past. My blues are already waning, so bring on the next thing.
More soon, maybe one more time before the year ends. It was a doozy and a half, to be sure.
Well, there was some of this:
A LOT of this:
Not much of this:
But a ton of this:
So, heavy on the important stuff, really. All in all, a wonderful time. I felt hugged from the inside out, being around people who knew and loved me and didn't care that I couldn't be bothered to go outside much or even change out of PJs most of the time. The Santa Claus experiment was a smashing success, HR had the best time ever, and even though he was a downright booger about bedtime, that doesn't matter in retrospect because honestly, who could sleep with all the excitement? Plus he gave us the unexpected gift of being a dream on both long rides there and back, and if you've ever had a motion-sick, car-hating toddler, you know that is of a value above rubies.
We did some present exchanging, lots of talking, a bit of drinking, and we ate and ate, and ate some more. And though my body is crying for brown rice and veggies and a hot date with the treadmill, I have no regrets. Saturday we had the raucous get-together with my maternal relatives at Gram's, and it was awesome because it's the first year in a while that we were all there (save for one cousin) and now that there are three great-grandchildren, it really brings the holiday spirit back. Later that night Mike, my siblings and I got to go out for some grown-up bar time, and I had a chance to catch up with a dear old friend, someone who also knew Niki and who lost her own best friend far too young, and even though we kept the conversation mostly light, it felt healing to be together. On Christmas Eve my adorable great aunt had us over for lunch, and that is one invitation you'd never want to refuse. In conclusion, there was snow, there was love, and there was lasagna. What more could you ask for? The only problem is that it went by SO FAST. I looked forward to it for so long, and it feels like I just this second burst through the door with a contented sigh, my dad handing me a Gritty's Christmas Ale and my mom putting supper on the table. But actually it's almost a week later and I've got a full day of work behind me. There was a moment on Sunday afternoon when HR was enjoying some one-on-one Mammy time while the rest of us hit the pub for grub and football, and my sister leaned over, backlit by twinkle lights, and said, "I wish it would never be after Christmas." And it was hitting me so hard too, even then, that time was already slipping away. We are so obviously related.
Anyway, I have a million pictures to upload, a million loads of laundry to do, a million toys and books for which to find a home within my home (and a very happy boy to ping-pong among them) and I'm feeling just as grateful to have passed the last bunch of days, even as I'm sorry they are the past. My blues are already waning, so bring on the next thing.
More soon, maybe one more time before the year ends. It was a doozy and a half, to be sure.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Elvish
Today feels like a party. I'm giddy, bordering on manic, and it has everything to do with the proximity to a chunk of time off and a trip up north. Also I can't say for sure, could be the sugar and caffeine talking, but it feels like my holiday spirit is kicking in.
I know (because I have tried, over the years) that the magical, Christmas-y feeling isn't something that can be forced, and this year I have made some half-assed attempts to access it, but honestly didn't expect it to come. And it's funny, because right now, all I can think about is how much this time of year meant to Nik and me and our friendship and focusing on that is a pure flame of joy lit up inside my sadness. We made a big deal of the holiday, setting aside a special time to exchange gifts and eat my mom's delicious carmelita bars. We'd always give each other a joke present and a serious one. One of my favorite pictures of all time is of Nik modeling the fingerless black lace gloves I got her one year. I'll leave it to you to determine whether they were the real or gag. Since we were in high school we had a tradition of buying each other the sappiest Hallmark cards we could find, and filling them with our own language of in-jokes and sarcasm, to cut the treacle. But even as we poked fun at sentiment, our gooey hearts were never far from the surface. The message was always clear: you are awesome and I love you and it's the best thing in the world that you are my friend. And I never stopped feeling that way, even when circumstances kept us apart.
This is my last day in the office until after Christmas, which invites its own kind of celebratory vibe, but the thought of going home, to my family, where I will take care and be taken care of, is the gift of the ages. It is exactly what I need. Always, but especially right now. Home where there is snow. Where I know every person in the grocery store. Where the section of the cemetery where children who died way before their parents is entirely too large. That mix of "isn't it nice to be back," and "thank goodness I got out and get to leave again soon," positive and negative, it's all part of what makes it home. My blood is there, my history (though at this point I've been out longer than I was in), my people. I can't avoid the reminders of being in the hometown I shared with my lifetime friend, but I can handle it. I never want to stop being reminded that Niki was here. And there. And everywhere, in my heart and mind. And I'll celebrate, being with my family who are my friends, and the friends who are family, because we are together and it's Christmas. And I'll stuff my face, and go out "on the town" with my siblings, and that can only ever be ridiculously good.
Most exciting for me is being part of HR's first, proper "Santa's coming!" Christmas Eve. I've only ever seen the wonder of the holiday from the other side, because my brother was ten years younger than me and we kept up Santa for as long as we could. I'm not kidding, for as long as he believed (and probably years after), the kids, including Mike, when he turned up, would all bunk together in one room on Christmas Eve, and come out of the room together in the morning to view Santa's bounty as a single unit. I've never been around to eat the cookies and leave the presents. And I can't wait for my shot (though as far as my child knows, Santa gets nachos and beer left for him). HR may or may not believe in any religion as he grows up, we're leaving that open to him, but it's important to me that he believes in magic while he's still so little. I know the window is short and I'm crashing through it with my jingle bell bandolier and jar of pixie dust.
Anyway, no matter what's going on with you for the next week, I hope it's filled with love.
I know (because I have tried, over the years) that the magical, Christmas-y feeling isn't something that can be forced, and this year I have made some half-assed attempts to access it, but honestly didn't expect it to come. And it's funny, because right now, all I can think about is how much this time of year meant to Nik and me and our friendship and focusing on that is a pure flame of joy lit up inside my sadness. We made a big deal of the holiday, setting aside a special time to exchange gifts and eat my mom's delicious carmelita bars. We'd always give each other a joke present and a serious one. One of my favorite pictures of all time is of Nik modeling the fingerless black lace gloves I got her one year. I'll leave it to you to determine whether they were the real or gag. Since we were in high school we had a tradition of buying each other the sappiest Hallmark cards we could find, and filling them with our own language of in-jokes and sarcasm, to cut the treacle. But even as we poked fun at sentiment, our gooey hearts were never far from the surface. The message was always clear: you are awesome and I love you and it's the best thing in the world that you are my friend. And I never stopped feeling that way, even when circumstances kept us apart.
This is my last day in the office until after Christmas, which invites its own kind of celebratory vibe, but the thought of going home, to my family, where I will take care and be taken care of, is the gift of the ages. It is exactly what I need. Always, but especially right now. Home where there is snow. Where I know every person in the grocery store. Where the section of the cemetery where children who died way before their parents is entirely too large. That mix of "isn't it nice to be back," and "thank goodness I got out and get to leave again soon," positive and negative, it's all part of what makes it home. My blood is there, my history (though at this point I've been out longer than I was in), my people. I can't avoid the reminders of being in the hometown I shared with my lifetime friend, but I can handle it. I never want to stop being reminded that Niki was here. And there. And everywhere, in my heart and mind. And I'll celebrate, being with my family who are my friends, and the friends who are family, because we are together and it's Christmas. And I'll stuff my face, and go out "on the town" with my siblings, and that can only ever be ridiculously good.
Most exciting for me is being part of HR's first, proper "Santa's coming!" Christmas Eve. I've only ever seen the wonder of the holiday from the other side, because my brother was ten years younger than me and we kept up Santa for as long as we could. I'm not kidding, for as long as he believed (and probably years after), the kids, including Mike, when he turned up, would all bunk together in one room on Christmas Eve, and come out of the room together in the morning to view Santa's bounty as a single unit. I've never been around to eat the cookies and leave the presents. And I can't wait for my shot (though as far as my child knows, Santa gets nachos and beer left for him). HR may or may not believe in any religion as he grows up, we're leaving that open to him, but it's important to me that he believes in magic while he's still so little. I know the window is short and I'm crashing through it with my jingle bell bandolier and jar of pixie dust.
Anyway, no matter what's going on with you for the next week, I hope it's filled with love.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Grief Takes Its Time, and For Posterity
This has been a difficult few weeks to be a human. I haven't properly grieved my friend, because even though I know she's gone, I see her no more or less than I have in our adult lives and there's no proof of her absence to make it real. And so I'm in emotional limbo, and drinking too much wine and both seeking and pushing away the memories, the private jokes, the good times.
And now I grieve with the nation for people I don't know, but know all too well. The sweet little ones who died were everyone's kids. The teachers, our teachers. The survivors who witnessed the horror and have to live with it, we know them even if we don't. The family of a very sick person, and the sick people who live with their sickness and aren't able or willing to get help. They are all of us, and even if they're not now, they will be someday. And there's nothing about it that isn't awful. And there are many points to be made, and examples to be used when all is said and done. How we can make sure it doesn't happen again. How to tap into the broken roots of society and repair them. But to me, for now, there's only loss. We all react to loss differently, there's no correct way to do it. But turning into animals to each other when we're all feeling the same thing just doesn't sit right. So I recede back, and back, and read less, and speak less.
I've stated before that I don't believe in a higher power or an afterlife. That is my own personal belief, and I don't think I'm smarter than anyone else or have more answers than anyone about anything. What I truly believe is that something's coming for us all, and for our babies, and it's cancer and it's guns and it's natural disasters and there are no guarantees so there's no time to waste in getting right with ourselves, with our loved ones. We can protect as much as we are able, but ultimately there's no protection, including for our own hearts. So there's no reason not to love as hard and extravagantly as we can, right here, right now.
This weekend we had our annual gathering with Mike's family to exchange chanukah presents and have a celebratory chow-down and spend a day in each other's company and it was nice like it's always nice, but it was especially gratifying this year because HR and his cousins are at the point where they know and love each other, and play and get into shenanigans. And watching them all I could think was, this is why we do it. In a miserable scary world. This is why we go on. This is why we take chances and release our precious babies even if all we want to do is hold them close. Because nothing makes sense. Because there is beauty in the chaos. Because sometimes we're lucky, and sometimes we're not, but we do a disservice to ourselves and our children if we don't roll the dice. Because there is love and light, it's there, I swear it. I don't think of God as one thing, one person, a force that has a plan or can make judgments or control or save anyone or anything. But that love and light we all have access to, what we do with it, that is God. To me. The very suggestion that those innocents were killed, or at the very least not spared, because one idea of one god is not sanctioned institution-wide for every individual (whether they believe it or not) is so offensive to me as a person that I can't be silent about it. That doesn't mean I don't respect your beliefs, if you said something like this. It just means I feel this way of thinking is so disrespectful to all other beliefs, and does nothing to ease the pain of the families of the victims. Why even say it? Just take care of your own beliefs and you'll be OK.
I still don't think I'm back to writing every day. I just had to get this out.
And now I grieve with the nation for people I don't know, but know all too well. The sweet little ones who died were everyone's kids. The teachers, our teachers. The survivors who witnessed the horror and have to live with it, we know them even if we don't. The family of a very sick person, and the sick people who live with their sickness and aren't able or willing to get help. They are all of us, and even if they're not now, they will be someday. And there's nothing about it that isn't awful. And there are many points to be made, and examples to be used when all is said and done. How we can make sure it doesn't happen again. How to tap into the broken roots of society and repair them. But to me, for now, there's only loss. We all react to loss differently, there's no correct way to do it. But turning into animals to each other when we're all feeling the same thing just doesn't sit right. So I recede back, and back, and read less, and speak less.
I've stated before that I don't believe in a higher power or an afterlife. That is my own personal belief, and I don't think I'm smarter than anyone else or have more answers than anyone about anything. What I truly believe is that something's coming for us all, and for our babies, and it's cancer and it's guns and it's natural disasters and there are no guarantees so there's no time to waste in getting right with ourselves, with our loved ones. We can protect as much as we are able, but ultimately there's no protection, including for our own hearts. So there's no reason not to love as hard and extravagantly as we can, right here, right now.
This weekend we had our annual gathering with Mike's family to exchange chanukah presents and have a celebratory chow-down and spend a day in each other's company and it was nice like it's always nice, but it was especially gratifying this year because HR and his cousins are at the point where they know and love each other, and play and get into shenanigans. And watching them all I could think was, this is why we do it. In a miserable scary world. This is why we go on. This is why we take chances and release our precious babies even if all we want to do is hold them close. Because nothing makes sense. Because there is beauty in the chaos. Because sometimes we're lucky, and sometimes we're not, but we do a disservice to ourselves and our children if we don't roll the dice. Because there is love and light, it's there, I swear it. I don't think of God as one thing, one person, a force that has a plan or can make judgments or control or save anyone or anything. But that love and light we all have access to, what we do with it, that is God. To me. The very suggestion that those innocents were killed, or at the very least not spared, because one idea of one god is not sanctioned institution-wide for every individual (whether they believe it or not) is so offensive to me as a person that I can't be silent about it. That doesn't mean I don't respect your beliefs, if you said something like this. It just means I feel this way of thinking is so disrespectful to all other beliefs, and does nothing to ease the pain of the families of the victims. Why even say it? Just take care of your own beliefs and you'll be OK.
I still don't think I'm back to writing every day. I just had to get this out.
Monday, December 10, 2012
Words
The fact is this: Niki is gone. I'll never see her again, never hear her voice, never get a text at 7 a.m. asking me to complete a lyric to a Kid n Play song. Of course my heart is broken. Of course I am sad. But more than anything, I'm in disbelief. It hasn't sunk in, and I doubt it will for a very long time.
I'm a mess of feelings. Big fucking unruly feelings that won't be wrangled into a thoughtful meditation on a beautiful life. Not yet, anyway. So I'm going to step away from my blog altogether for awhile. Because every thought is about Niki anyway, and I don't want to write about her again until I can give her the tribute she deserves. Until then...
I'm a mess of feelings. Big fucking unruly feelings that won't be wrangled into a thoughtful meditation on a beautiful life. Not yet, anyway. So I'm going to step away from my blog altogether for awhile. Because every thought is about Niki anyway, and I don't want to write about her again until I can give her the tribute she deserves. Until then...
NSV-K - 10/1/1974-12/8/2012
Diamonds and Pearls, Forever Babe
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Mental Mistletoe
On the heels of yesterday's watershed, I think you'll understand why I've been having some trouble accessing my usual jingle-jangle enthusiasm during what's typically my favorite time of year. All the spirit hugs definitely help, and I do get a little thrill of the season here and there, but I've accepted it's going to be tempered. That's life, sugarbeet. Also, did November happen? I feel like I was duped out of an entire month this year and it left my head spinning.
Still, you know I love my lists, and I've been compiling a mental list of things to look forward to, things that make me smile and feel a rush of holiday warmth. Like,
-kicking off chanukah by lighting the menorah and giving HR his first present. We didn't do any formal gift giving with him before this year, and as it is we're probably keeping it to one thing, but I'm exited for him to open something we bought special, something that I know he'll love
-latkes and general merriment with Mike's family next weekend
-decorating our house for the first time since HR was born and seeing his reaction
-going to Maine for a big fat chunk of time and being surrounded with the holiday foods of my youth (all the meat pie and chex mix and needhams for me, thanks) and real Christmas trees and, of course, the family crush
-champagne! I know I wrote not too long ago about how I didn't intend to reserve bubbly for special occasions and wanted to drink it all the time, just because. Well I failed at that business, but there's never a better time than now to start it up. From here until January, the stars is my drink of choice
-the prospect of peppermint bark. I want to make some, but at the very least I'll eat some, I know it's available for purchase somewhere in this fine city
-maybe it's time for Santa Claus? I'm playing this one by ear, maybe we won't do it until next year, but the idea of a proper Christmas Eve and the wonder of Christmas morning really appeals to me. It really is all about the kids. Or about the parents wanting the magic for the kids? Either way the kids are involved. As an aside, I love having an interfaith marriage and the mash of traditions - I hope down the line we'll have done right by our kid
-quality screen time: Emmett Otter, Christmas Eve on Sesame Street, Charlie Brown, maybe even the Muppet Christmas Carol and/or Pee-Wee's Christmas Special with the boy; White Christmas and Love Actually for me. I caught a bit of Elf already, but I think I need to schedule a dedicated watch, and of course the traditional bits of A Christmas Story over a 24 hour period.
Per usual my list is largely made up of food items. Traditional food, to which I have a real emotional connection. But really all food is cool with me, just wanted to make sure I didn't come off as unaware that good eating is key to my happiness. All right, gotta go write some decidedly un-festive policy now.
Love. Just, love.
Still, you know I love my lists, and I've been compiling a mental list of things to look forward to, things that make me smile and feel a rush of holiday warmth. Like,
-kicking off chanukah by lighting the menorah and giving HR his first present. We didn't do any formal gift giving with him before this year, and as it is we're probably keeping it to one thing, but I'm exited for him to open something we bought special, something that I know he'll love
-latkes and general merriment with Mike's family next weekend
-decorating our house for the first time since HR was born and seeing his reaction
-going to Maine for a big fat chunk of time and being surrounded with the holiday foods of my youth (all the meat pie and chex mix and needhams for me, thanks) and real Christmas trees and, of course, the family crush
-champagne! I know I wrote not too long ago about how I didn't intend to reserve bubbly for special occasions and wanted to drink it all the time, just because. Well I failed at that business, but there's never a better time than now to start it up. From here until January, the stars is my drink of choice
-the prospect of peppermint bark. I want to make some, but at the very least I'll eat some, I know it's available for purchase somewhere in this fine city
-maybe it's time for Santa Claus? I'm playing this one by ear, maybe we won't do it until next year, but the idea of a proper Christmas Eve and the wonder of Christmas morning really appeals to me. It really is all about the kids. Or about the parents wanting the magic for the kids? Either way the kids are involved. As an aside, I love having an interfaith marriage and the mash of traditions - I hope down the line we'll have done right by our kid
-quality screen time: Emmett Otter, Christmas Eve on Sesame Street, Charlie Brown, maybe even the Muppet Christmas Carol and/or Pee-Wee's Christmas Special with the boy; White Christmas and Love Actually for me. I caught a bit of Elf already, but I think I need to schedule a dedicated watch, and of course the traditional bits of A Christmas Story over a 24 hour period.
Per usual my list is largely made up of food items. Traditional food, to which I have a real emotional connection. But really all food is cool with me, just wanted to make sure I didn't come off as unaware that good eating is key to my happiness. All right, gotta go write some decidedly un-festive policy now.
Love. Just, love.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
The Here and Now
I met Niki when it was still the 1980s. We were in eighth grade, teammates on the (now non-existent) junior high basketball cheerleading squad. She had been living in Seattle, and before that, Germany, a former army brat of that most exotic breed-- the rare person in our town who I hadn't known since birth. We didn't go to the same school at that point, so our friendship didn't solidify until the next year, when we were freshman in the same brand-new regional high school. And once basketball season rolled around again, we (along with our mutual bestie Tanya) were like glue in pretty short order. We bonded over the same terrible/wonderful music, we crushed on the same pie-in-the-sky upperclassmen, and we just got each other. To this day, nobody makes me laugh until I cry like Nik. She is the wickedest of the wicked funny ladies. When we graduated high school and went to colleges hundreds of miles apart, we remained as close as ever. I have a box crammed with letters from her over the years. Letters, can you imagine! We were so prolific in our correspondence, and visited each other at school, and saw each other on holidays and as much as possible during the summers. And then as adults, even when she made the move Way Down South, I never stopped considering her among my best friends. Because she is. That's the kind of relationship we have where we can go months without talking, but when we do pick up the phone or get the chance to see each other, it's like, BOOM, friendship magic. Yes, all relationships take work and maintenance. But truly this is one of the easiest ones I've ever had in my life. We click, and we take for granted, we take comfort in how we can always count on that.
And now my dear girl is really, really sick. She has been, on and off, for the past five years. It started with a melanoma discovered right before Tanya's wedding, from which she was given a clean bill of health. And then a recurrence. And then another, this one, the scariest yet. And nobody knows for sure what's going to happen. The diagnosis was only made a couple of months ago, and I feel like I've been holding my breath since then. I can only imagine how those closest to her every day life are feeling - her mom, her amazing husband, her best good friends. I haven't seen her in over a year, the time she got to meet Harrison and she was in possibly the best shape of her life. She's been a champ about keeping those who love her posted about what was going on, and her husband's doing it now in her stead. And all I know is that she's extremely not well. And that's all I want to say about it.
I am sad. I am endlessly anxious. And my feeling of impotence, of helplessness is all-encompassing. Helpless because I'm not there, but even if I were to get on a plane and go there to see her, which at this point would be pretty much for my own benefit, there's nothing I can actually do outside of offering all of my love. Of course it's worth something, but it sure won't take away her constant nausea or pack those 30 pounds she didn't have to lose in the first place back on her body. Again, I know this is not about me. But it doesn't change that I am gutted. We are 38 years old. We should be planning our joint 40th birthday extravaganza. And maybe we'll get to, christ I hope we'll get to, but not today. Today we can only focus on today.
Make no mistake: this is not a eulogy. This is keeping you up to date on what's going on in my life, right inside the enchanted sparkle forest I'm always telling you about. A woman I love in the dearest place in my heart is sick. I've been keeping that to myself, and I can't keep it to myself anymore. I am not looking for condolences. I appreciate if you're sorry to hear about it, we're all sorry. And that's all.
If this song seems like a terrible choice to wrap up this entry, then obviously you don't know Niki, the longtime sassy Salt to my wannabe Spinderella (Tanya is Pepa, naturally). Love you, girl.
And now my dear girl is really, really sick. She has been, on and off, for the past five years. It started with a melanoma discovered right before Tanya's wedding, from which she was given a clean bill of health. And then a recurrence. And then another, this one, the scariest yet. And nobody knows for sure what's going to happen. The diagnosis was only made a couple of months ago, and I feel like I've been holding my breath since then. I can only imagine how those closest to her every day life are feeling - her mom, her amazing husband, her best good friends. I haven't seen her in over a year, the time she got to meet Harrison and she was in possibly the best shape of her life. She's been a champ about keeping those who love her posted about what was going on, and her husband's doing it now in her stead. And all I know is that she's extremely not well. And that's all I want to say about it.
I am sad. I am endlessly anxious. And my feeling of impotence, of helplessness is all-encompassing. Helpless because I'm not there, but even if I were to get on a plane and go there to see her, which at this point would be pretty much for my own benefit, there's nothing I can actually do outside of offering all of my love. Of course it's worth something, but it sure won't take away her constant nausea or pack those 30 pounds she didn't have to lose in the first place back on her body. Again, I know this is not about me. But it doesn't change that I am gutted. We are 38 years old. We should be planning our joint 40th birthday extravaganza. And maybe we'll get to, christ I hope we'll get to, but not today. Today we can only focus on today.
Make no mistake: this is not a eulogy. This is keeping you up to date on what's going on in my life, right inside the enchanted sparkle forest I'm always telling you about. A woman I love in the dearest place in my heart is sick. I've been keeping that to myself, and I can't keep it to myself anymore. I am not looking for condolences. I appreciate if you're sorry to hear about it, we're all sorry. And that's all.
If this song seems like a terrible choice to wrap up this entry, then obviously you don't know Niki, the longtime sassy Salt to my wannabe Spinderella (Tanya is Pepa, naturally). Love you, girl.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Agony/Ecstasy
As they go, this was a strange weekend for me. There were nice things, like pretty snow that's already melted, and my kid being his ever amazing self, but the niceness was tempered by a few things. One being that I saw Mike for only a handful of waking hours due to a fill-in shift at work and miscellaneous housekeeping junk. I like my alone time, probably more than the average person, but I really felt his absence this weekend and am looking forward to whatever chunk of hang-out time is in our immediate future.
The other is that my dear longtime friend is very sick, and has been for awhile. I've put off even mentioning it for a lot of reasons, a big one being that I know she reads my blog, several people who know and love her do. And when things are bad, particularly when it's not your own, personal bad, how to even start talking about it? What gives me the right? But I can't not anymore. To not address what has become a constant source of worry and heartbreak makes me feel like a big fake. Her fight doesn't belong to me, but to leave it out of what I write would be glossing over the experience of my own life. I in no way mistake her illness and what it's doing to her for my own struggle-- I'm not the one going through it, not physically suffering. I'm not geographically close enough to be much actual help. But it doesn't change the fact that when people I care about are hurting, it hurts me, and it hurts enough that I can't not write about it any more. And so I will, but not until tomorrow. I want to give the situation its own entry, its due. And I would trot out my usual refrain re: cancer but out of respect for my girl, who has always had an irrational hatred of the "F" word, I will tone it down to EFF CANCER. Same sentiment.
My two-point-seven-year-old piece of work was in rare form over the past few days, and the light he brings to our lives couldn't be more appreciated. The other night we went out to dinner, just he and I, at the neighborhood deli. We had just come from the Curious George store, so he brought the new farm animals I got him for his "pecial qweet." He played so happily and was such a little mensch over the entire course of the meal that diners from three separate tables stopped by to compliment me on his behavior. Trust me, I know it had as much to do with the recently purchased toys than any blazing parenting skills, and he could just as easily be the screeching meltdown monster that was seated across the room from us, but parents are so rarely given props for anything, I took their kind words with gratitude, they made the whole rest of the night for me. Truthfully dining out has never been our problem area with the dude--sleep and that whole talking to people issue have been our historical dragons to slay--but every toddler is a ticking timebomb in public and every time I can get away without an explosion I consider it a successful outing. This is the first year he's shown any interest or awareness in the holiday spectacle, so checking out the light displays has been a blast. He especially enjoys the manger scenes with the big animals and what he calls "farmers" (Mary, Joseph, etc.). And we had a laugh this morning when I offered him the opportunity to go on the potty--he's clearly not ready, we're not pushing it yet, just reminding him--he responded, "That not sound like fun." What can you do but agree? And if it's not fun, why bother? He has no idea that some days he's the only reason to smile. To be fair, he has no idea that he's not actually the sun and moon.
Anyway. Until tomorrow.
The other is that my dear longtime friend is very sick, and has been for awhile. I've put off even mentioning it for a lot of reasons, a big one being that I know she reads my blog, several people who know and love her do. And when things are bad, particularly when it's not your own, personal bad, how to even start talking about it? What gives me the right? But I can't not anymore. To not address what has become a constant source of worry and heartbreak makes me feel like a big fake. Her fight doesn't belong to me, but to leave it out of what I write would be glossing over the experience of my own life. I in no way mistake her illness and what it's doing to her for my own struggle-- I'm not the one going through it, not physically suffering. I'm not geographically close enough to be much actual help. But it doesn't change the fact that when people I care about are hurting, it hurts me, and it hurts enough that I can't not write about it any more. And so I will, but not until tomorrow. I want to give the situation its own entry, its due. And I would trot out my usual refrain re: cancer but out of respect for my girl, who has always had an irrational hatred of the "F" word, I will tone it down to EFF CANCER. Same sentiment.
My two-point-seven-year-old piece of work was in rare form over the past few days, and the light he brings to our lives couldn't be more appreciated. The other night we went out to dinner, just he and I, at the neighborhood deli. We had just come from the Curious George store, so he brought the new farm animals I got him for his "pecial qweet." He played so happily and was such a little mensch over the entire course of the meal that diners from three separate tables stopped by to compliment me on his behavior. Trust me, I know it had as much to do with the recently purchased toys than any blazing parenting skills, and he could just as easily be the screeching meltdown monster that was seated across the room from us, but parents are so rarely given props for anything, I took their kind words with gratitude, they made the whole rest of the night for me. Truthfully dining out has never been our problem area with the dude--sleep and that whole talking to people issue have been our historical dragons to slay--but every toddler is a ticking timebomb in public and every time I can get away without an explosion I consider it a successful outing. This is the first year he's shown any interest or awareness in the holiday spectacle, so checking out the light displays has been a blast. He especially enjoys the manger scenes with the big animals and what he calls "farmers" (Mary, Joseph, etc.). And we had a laugh this morning when I offered him the opportunity to go on the potty--he's clearly not ready, we're not pushing it yet, just reminding him--he responded, "That not sound like fun." What can you do but agree? And if it's not fun, why bother? He has no idea that some days he's the only reason to smile. To be fair, he has no idea that he's not actually the sun and moon.
Anyway. Until tomorrow.
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