Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Running rapid
my thoughts run. My legs try to run. My emotions run. My patience.
Rapid. Like the swift moving part of a river. The white foam of the over-churned exhausted water rises to the surface. White water rapids. Bubbling. Gaining strength and losing control at the same time.
Like the man I'm sitting with at work tonight rapidly throws out fragments of sentences that make no sense. So I fragment my thoughts on a blog post. He's barking like a dog. Whistling. Talking about women. Tapping. Staring. Talking to no one.
I've been pretty controlled. I've done pretty well keeping myself tightly contained. Sealed air tight. But I'm human. I can't keep it up for long. Today I snapped. At a cd. That wouldn't do what I wanted it to. It's supposed to play songs. It's supposed to do what it's made to do. But it wouldn't. And I snapped. Driving home from my grandmas. I wanted to listen to a song on my cd. And the stupid thing wouldn't play. After trying it at least half a dozen times. I pulled it from the cd player and chucked it at my floor. Like a frisbee. I'm not perfect. Surprise! And maybe I swore at the car that passed a slow-moving car in front of it. Yea. I did. I had to slam on my brakes bc the car that was passing the slow car was coming right at me. Extremely fast.
I even messed up instant mashed potatoes!!!! I couldn't even get that right! Or boil a friggen bag of egg noodles! They were crunchy! What the hell is wrong with me!???! But I sure can stir the fizz out of a shot of Diet Vernors! My grandma is full after a tablespoon of instant mashed potatoes. A spoonful of apple sauce. And a shot of flat fizzed out diet Vernors.
I'm not mad at God. Im not angry or bitter at Him. He didn't make my grandma get cancer. He didn't choose her name over someone else bc He likes her less. A year ago I might've believed that. So I'm glad it didn't happen then.
My emotions are always showing up at the worst times. It's usually when I'm in public. Or driving somehwere. They are one more thing that I'm slowly losing control of. I suck at containing them lately. Since my emotions have feelings too, I'd say they are pretty pissed at me for not letting them feel. They should be pretty forgiving though after the way I let them run rapid today.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
It comes in waves
This might not make much sense without having read the post before this one. But nevertheless, still just as true. It's been one week since my family and I received the devestating news about my grandma. I realize the word 'devestating' packs a mean punch, but it's true. My grandma was going to have a surgery that would get rid of her stomach cancer and after, would go on living a normal life. Except for changing her diet. That all changed when the cancer monster was found in her spleen and pancreas. Inoperable cancer. In a moment. It went from, 'you'll recover fine" to, "you only have 3 months left with your grandma (mom, sister, great grandma) needless to say, it's not what any of us had expected. We weren't prepared.
And now we will spend the next few months preparing. My grandma doesn't know about the time limit. And we know that is best. Less for her to worry about and more reason for her to really live the life she has left. The important thing is that we have time left. Like I expressed honestly in the previous post, that doesnt make it less hard to deal with. It doesn't mean the tears shed and stored up, waiting to be shed will be any less dense. They will fall heavily. Like the snow that packs inside a cloud, waiting to fall to the ground in puff white flakes, or wet, heavy, packing flakes. So the tears pile up behind heavy, tired eyes.
It comes in waves. The emotion. The realization. Like a memory once faded, foggy at first but then comes flooding back in every vivid detail. Yesterday was a good day for me. And when I say good, I only mean that I didn't cry. That's how I measure my days. Good if I dont cry Bad if I do. As I write that, it is true, that's how I feel. But I know that just because you allow yourself the privilege to feel, even if you feel awful, doesnt necessarily mean its a bad day. I'd say it'd be a successful day.
It comes in waves. The reality. The last week's events. I wasnt at the hospital. There was no need for all of us to be there for a surgery that would allow for a full recovery. I've heard my mom tell the story from her view. And sometimes I recall that. Other days I thank God I wasnt with my mom in the "bad news delivery room". But when it comes in waves, they crash heavily against the shore of my breaking heart. Ignorantly. Without reproach. Without warning. No siren of alarm to prepare. Just rudely crashing loud. Devestating. I recall little moments of my newborn grief.
Sitting at our bar in our kitchen listening to my mom share with my dad. She told him a story I will always remember. After the blow of the news, the doctor came in and was talking to those in the room. He asked, "How many grand kids does she have?" my mom answered 14...and 3 great grand kids. He replied, "She has been very blessed." I felt the subtle warning of warmth behind my eyes and the tears rolled down my cheeks. And perhaps the greatest amount of pain I felt was standing in our kitchen. Huddled over a store bought salad. My fork scraped mindlessly over croutons and dried lettuce. The words swirled around in my head. Then they thumped loudly in my ears. Then it came in a wave. I started to cry. Hard. Thick crocodile tears plummeted into my salad. And I wailed. My dad came over to rescue my salad from the flood and said, knowingly, "what's the matter?" Those words. The ones that came in waves, thundered from my mouth as I realized the hard truth of them. As if spitting them out in and through my tears would bring some sort of relief. "I don't want grandma to die, Dad!" Tsunami. Waves of wailing and tears spilled out onto my dad's grey t-shirt.
When your heart comes pouring forth with that kind of force, something happens. You actually feel clarity. You understand why you're sad. And the truth can't even help itself but to come flowing out. It came two-fold. First, my own pain in realizing my grandmas fate and secondly, realizing just how sad it makes me to see others walk thru pain and sadness. The next thing I said only served to make me cry harder. Unashamed. I said, "I don't want mom to be sad! She's gonna be so sad!" And when truth comes, so does healing. The tears were a start of healing. I know because my dad started to cry. A man of few words and fewer emotions and zero tears. He tried to hide it. But he sucks at it.
It comes in waves. And some days are harder than others. I know today is a wave day. I know because I write when I feel.
And now we will spend the next few months preparing. My grandma doesn't know about the time limit. And we know that is best. Less for her to worry about and more reason for her to really live the life she has left. The important thing is that we have time left. Like I expressed honestly in the previous post, that doesnt make it less hard to deal with. It doesn't mean the tears shed and stored up, waiting to be shed will be any less dense. They will fall heavily. Like the snow that packs inside a cloud, waiting to fall to the ground in puff white flakes, or wet, heavy, packing flakes. So the tears pile up behind heavy, tired eyes.
It comes in waves. The emotion. The realization. Like a memory once faded, foggy at first but then comes flooding back in every vivid detail. Yesterday was a good day for me. And when I say good, I only mean that I didn't cry. That's how I measure my days. Good if I dont cry Bad if I do. As I write that, it is true, that's how I feel. But I know that just because you allow yourself the privilege to feel, even if you feel awful, doesnt necessarily mean its a bad day. I'd say it'd be a successful day.
It comes in waves. The reality. The last week's events. I wasnt at the hospital. There was no need for all of us to be there for a surgery that would allow for a full recovery. I've heard my mom tell the story from her view. And sometimes I recall that. Other days I thank God I wasnt with my mom in the "bad news delivery room". But when it comes in waves, they crash heavily against the shore of my breaking heart. Ignorantly. Without reproach. Without warning. No siren of alarm to prepare. Just rudely crashing loud. Devestating. I recall little moments of my newborn grief.
Sitting at our bar in our kitchen listening to my mom share with my dad. She told him a story I will always remember. After the blow of the news, the doctor came in and was talking to those in the room. He asked, "How many grand kids does she have?" my mom answered 14...and 3 great grand kids. He replied, "She has been very blessed." I felt the subtle warning of warmth behind my eyes and the tears rolled down my cheeks. And perhaps the greatest amount of pain I felt was standing in our kitchen. Huddled over a store bought salad. My fork scraped mindlessly over croutons and dried lettuce. The words swirled around in my head. Then they thumped loudly in my ears. Then it came in a wave. I started to cry. Hard. Thick crocodile tears plummeted into my salad. And I wailed. My dad came over to rescue my salad from the flood and said, knowingly, "what's the matter?" Those words. The ones that came in waves, thundered from my mouth as I realized the hard truth of them. As if spitting them out in and through my tears would bring some sort of relief. "I don't want grandma to die, Dad!" Tsunami. Waves of wailing and tears spilled out onto my dad's grey t-shirt.
When your heart comes pouring forth with that kind of force, something happens. You actually feel clarity. You understand why you're sad. And the truth can't even help itself but to come flowing out. It came two-fold. First, my own pain in realizing my grandmas fate and secondly, realizing just how sad it makes me to see others walk thru pain and sadness. The next thing I said only served to make me cry harder. Unashamed. I said, "I don't want mom to be sad! She's gonna be so sad!" And when truth comes, so does healing. The tears were a start of healing. I know because my dad started to cry. A man of few words and fewer emotions and zero tears. He tried to hide it. But he sucks at it.
It comes in waves. And some days are harder than others. I know today is a wave day. I know because I write when I feel.
Friday, March 16, 2012
weathering the storm...or walking straight into it
honesty is always a good place to start. so i'll start there...and stay there throughout this entire post.
it is written with the heaviest of hearts, puddles of tears and a song that i can't even open my mouth to sing. it's been awhile since ive written. but i always want to share whats real and what is honest and what is true. and this is the truth....
my grandma is dying. over the past month, she has been in and out of hospitals (yes more than one), losing blood, throwing up food, even water, too weak to even make herself food. and my family waited. and waited. and then we knew. all in one half hour period, it went from operable procedure to, we need a miracle. the cancer that started in the wall of her stomach rapidly spread to her pancreas and spleen. the phone call i received will forever be a lasting memory. painful and surreal. i was alone, face on the floor, fists balled and eyes tightly closed around a mass of warm tears. and a song. a song that has been stuck in my head for a very long time. a song that when i heard it after the devestating phone call, i swirled quickly into complete devestation and hope all at the same time.
the hardest part is hearing from a distance. i havent been able to be at the hospital. it went from, "this procedure is totally do able, and your grandma will still be a pain in your ass after she's recovered" to,
"we're so sorry. we can't operate." my grandma was thrilled to know that, in the beginning, she was going to be alright. then hopes were dashed when she realized she still had her stomach. it was going to be removed because that's where the cancer was. and i was thrilled too. to know that she was going to be alright.
and as hard as it is to allow my shaking hands to write this, i still know she will be alright. at the end of the 3 months the doctors have given her to live on this earth, she will be alright. and i know she will be well again.
this doesn't mean that my tears are any less and that my heart is lighter. the pain is real. the storm is real. this is a storm that cannot be weathered. it has to be walked through. head on. the news itself is heartwrenching. but the harder news is that at first, she was going to be alright. then an hour later, she wasn't.
when she realized, she closed her eyes and said, "well, how much time do i have left?"
my aunt quickly responded, "well, Barb, there's really only One person who truly knows that, right?"
my grandma agreed.
the news slowly sinks in, each passing hour. and as i try to go about my normal day stuff, ths song. it keeps playing over and over again. i wanted to share it with you. im not sure why. maybe because i write when im broken. it's called Everlasting God. I've attached the music. please listen.
One thing i know that i have found
through all the troubles that surround,
You are the Rock that never fails. You never fail
One thing i know that i believe
Through every blessing i recieve
You are the only one that stays
You always stay
You never change. You're still the same
You are the everlasting God.
You will remain after the day is gone
and the things of earth have passed
Everlasting God.
it is written with the heaviest of hearts, puddles of tears and a song that i can't even open my mouth to sing. it's been awhile since ive written. but i always want to share whats real and what is honest and what is true. and this is the truth....
my grandma is dying. over the past month, she has been in and out of hospitals (yes more than one), losing blood, throwing up food, even water, too weak to even make herself food. and my family waited. and waited. and then we knew. all in one half hour period, it went from operable procedure to, we need a miracle. the cancer that started in the wall of her stomach rapidly spread to her pancreas and spleen. the phone call i received will forever be a lasting memory. painful and surreal. i was alone, face on the floor, fists balled and eyes tightly closed around a mass of warm tears. and a song. a song that has been stuck in my head for a very long time. a song that when i heard it after the devestating phone call, i swirled quickly into complete devestation and hope all at the same time.
the hardest part is hearing from a distance. i havent been able to be at the hospital. it went from, "this procedure is totally do able, and your grandma will still be a pain in your ass after she's recovered" to,
"we're so sorry. we can't operate." my grandma was thrilled to know that, in the beginning, she was going to be alright. then hopes were dashed when she realized she still had her stomach. it was going to be removed because that's where the cancer was. and i was thrilled too. to know that she was going to be alright.
and as hard as it is to allow my shaking hands to write this, i still know she will be alright. at the end of the 3 months the doctors have given her to live on this earth, she will be alright. and i know she will be well again.
this doesn't mean that my tears are any less and that my heart is lighter. the pain is real. the storm is real. this is a storm that cannot be weathered. it has to be walked through. head on. the news itself is heartwrenching. but the harder news is that at first, she was going to be alright. then an hour later, she wasn't.
when she realized, she closed her eyes and said, "well, how much time do i have left?"
my aunt quickly responded, "well, Barb, there's really only One person who truly knows that, right?"
my grandma agreed.
the news slowly sinks in, each passing hour. and as i try to go about my normal day stuff, ths song. it keeps playing over and over again. i wanted to share it with you. im not sure why. maybe because i write when im broken. it's called Everlasting God. I've attached the music. please listen.
One thing i know that i have found
through all the troubles that surround,
You are the Rock that never fails. You never fail
One thing i know that i believe
Through every blessing i recieve
You are the only one that stays
You always stay
You never change. You're still the same
You are the everlasting God.
You will remain after the day is gone
and the things of earth have passed
Everlasting God.
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