Step by Step

I’m tired.

I’ve been writing this blog in my head all week.  I just can’t seem to find a theme I can stick with for more than a paragraph or two.  Or, if I’m honest with myself, a sentence or two.

Cynthia Wallin in Memoriam

Regular readers will know a friend of mine passed away and her memorial service was this last weekend.  I’m in the second or third tier of mourners.  Tier one – the decision makers and those truly being overwhelmed with waves of grief.  Tier two – the organizers.  The ones asking the decision makers what they want and striving to make it happen.  The people whose grief makes them prickly, rude, short-tempered, unclear and perfectly sure they have everything in line because keeping things in line is how they cope.  Tier three – the support system for the first two tiers.  The listeners.  The worker bees.  The one’s who are distant enough to put off their mourning until it’s convenient (at least a little more effectively).

I helped prep and man the buffet table. Yes, I have trays… and coolers.

Having the memorial made it real.  That’s part of the point of course.  Being gifted some mementos makes it real and personal (which it has always been, but denial is so convenient).  Having nothing left to “get done” means there is no longer an excuse to put off the emotional response.

Cancer Sucks

I’m sure the death certificate doesn’t say my friend died of cancer.  But it is certainly the undiagnosed and untreated cancer that caused the heart failure.

I’m grateful my friend didn’t die alone at home, but had people around her who cared about her.

I’m grateful my friend went quickly, all at once, rather than having to slowly and painfully waste away.

I’m grateful her very elderly mother dared to get on a plane and put herself in the hands of a community of her daughter’s friends whom she had never met.

I’m grateful for the presence of people who spoke about areas of my friend’s life that I wasn’t privy to.

One of the many, many things Cynthia made by hand were candles. We all took some home to burn in her honor.

I’m angry that a cancer that large and impactful goes undiagnosed for so long.  I’m angry that the complaints of a large woman (both exceptionally tall and not willowy) are dismissed by our medical community as always being about weight.  I’m upset that no matter how good the insurance you’ve got, unless you know what to ask for medicine is practiced according to the insurance company guidelines rather than actual medical need.

I had breakfast today at Gilda’s Club.  It’s a sort of monthly social event.  At Gilda’s I am surrounded by people living with cancer, many of whom know they have no hope of a cure.  I am always buoyed up by the spirit of care and acceptance.  I am reminded that there is pain and sorrow, but also hope and joy.

I met Gayle at Gilda’s Club about 4 years ago. She continues to smile through her cancer journey.

I’m putting one foot in front of the other.  Step by step.

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