Friday, November 11, 2005

Overwhelmed

Sitting here, listening to: "If ever I see you again" by Roberta Flack, 1978. Suddenly, my eyes fill with tears & they begin to flow uncontrollably down my cheeks. It's not one particular thing, it's not depression; it's life.
I was supposed to see my aunt yesterday, but she wasn't feeling good, so today I went over as she was somewhat better. There is a visible decline from last week, both physically and in alertness. Today we held hands for a bit, she helped me with my apron. (I've still just got the pocket sewn) and here, this tiny 85 year old woman, most likely in her last weeks of life, is taking time to help me sew. She tells me to feel free to change whatever I want on the pattern. She used to make her own patterns out of newspaper; that's how she was taught by her mom.
But when this song started playing it hit me. I may never see her again. Sure, we all want to believe we'll see our loved ones again, but the harsh truth is, nobody really knows, do they? Religious people can say this & that, but it's still speculation. And we don't know if Aunty will be here next week.
She's so heavily medicated now & her skin is turning yellow again. I can tell she doesn't like being so medicated, she says her eyes feel too heavy. But without the medicine she'd be in unbearable pain & unable to sleep. Whenever I think about her, there is one resounding thought: She is so beautiful. Not just physically but in every way possible. I am thankful we've had these few weeks of pleasant times with her. I'm going to miss her tremendously.
My cousin, Lupe, asked her, "Is there something you want me to do, Mom?" "No, just let me...be" my aunt replied, then she said, "That's what my sister does, she holds my hand and just lets me 'be'." My mom loves to sit by Aunty's bed, whether she's awake or asleep & just holds her hand. My aunt will awaken and say, "I know my sister is here because I smell her perfume." This makes my mom laugh. My mom will go to the ends of the earth for a loved one, family or friend. I can't imagine how her heart must ache.
Lola goes to the E.N.T. Doctor next week to see if he'll operate to remove the cancer by her carotid artery; that tumor hasn't decreased since chemo. She has another 1 that's almost gone from treatments.
Tuesday was 12 years to the day of my father's death. I wasn't able to write about it then & still can't. On Tuesday night my son went into a mental hospital, they let him out Wednesday morning, due to overcrowding. As a parent, it doesn't matter how much we distance ourselves. To see our child suffer, no matter how great our anger or determination, it HURTS.
I avoid talking or thinking about them because when I think of one, I think of all these things & it's overwhelming. It's like someone is sticking their arm down my throat and literally choking what breath I have. Please understand, while it may seem I'm complaining, I am, but I'm also not. (it is a woman's prerogative to contradict herself) I realize I'm blessed to have such a close and loving family.
I know I won't die from hardships, it just feels like it sometimes. But I don't think some great spirit in the sky is going to swoop down & remove this pain either. I'm not saying I don't have faith, but reality is what it is. And right now, this is my reality.

I'm sure by morning time, I'll regret having put these thoughts in writing, it usually happens that way. For one, this post is actually very, very selfish. It's all about me & my feelings, when I'm not the one who is truly suffering. Nor am I the one living my last days in a cancer ridden body. It's thoughts like this that make me want to just quit being so damn sensitive, just suck it up and take it like whoever it is that just sucks this stuff up & deals with it. I want to not be what I fucking am right now. Selfish. Hurting. Pathetic. And sad. So very sad.

posted by jane at 10:07 PM