*-_-*

Ok so I had the most bleak christmas/new year of my life but I'm not going to bitch about it because it was all my fault.

It seems like I only blog if someone dies....sorry. My ex boyfriend's dad died. When he called me I could hardly make heads or tail of what he was saying (partly because it was 3AM) but when I realized who it was I immediately knew that this was the hour that this was the call he dreaded getting and making.
His dad had pancreatic cancer slim, fit, active (gym and choir practice), went on a cruise with his wife and a trip to England. Too bad it wasn't colon or prostate cancer at least it may have been discovered sooner.
I know you may laugh actually no the situation is sad enough that you wouldn't but you would probably doubt. Anyway. One night in undergrad we were asleep in the same bed (I think this was the pre virgin days) we just liked to fall asleep next to each other and luckily we lived in the same dorm. So we are fast asleep in dreamland and then he flies up straight in bed and sits at the edge of the bed. At first I just rearrange myself and try to drift back to sleep but then something sounds wrong so I sit up with him, he tried to turn his face away but he was crying.
Wow! Shock and I'm scared to ask him what happened?
Well, he dreamt that his father died and that was his worst nightmare. It was particularly scary since when he dreams that people die they really do. At the time he was 20 and this happened at least twice before.
So then came the period of calling home worrying and just trying to ask if his dad had all the necessary yearly checks that he should have. His brothers were puzzled by his questions everyone was like he's fine. But 2 weeks later the call came his aunt (father's sister died).

Hmmmmm. I don't think he ever mentioned the dream to anyone else. And I know I never mentioned it, but to see someone that you go to for comfort and advice so broken, sad and just empty its sad. Its sad because I really prayed for him and was convinced that he was as sick as he was because of the chemo not because the treatment wasn't working. I told myself...that's the point of chemo to bring you to the brink of death (healthy cells cancerous cells it doesn't discriminate). I hoped so much , he had made it through 2 cycles of chemo all he had to do was fight and try to eat sometimes. Alas it just wasn't enough in about 4 short months it was over.
Yes he was ailing, but he was going through cancer treatment he was supposed to be frail and sick, so no his death wasn't expected because he was sick, no he wasn't "on borrowed time".

So I was on the phone he's in Penn State and I'm in DC and I was just honest "I'm sorry, this is so sad. I don't know what to say to comfort you, but I wish I was there". I could hear his heart aching over the phone probably thinking of the wedding his father wouldn't attend (luckily his oldest brother had the foresight to not listen to anyone and got engaged and married -in within about 2 months while everyone was like move out first, build the house first, get married during the summer), the grandkids his dad would never get to teach the piano or how to cook or tinker with a car. I had to show him the accomplishments, the bright side: a marriage that lasted 30+ years, raising 3 sons all of whom are either physicists, engineers or financial advisors and real genuine gentlemen, he created a secure joyful home with tons of memories for them and his wife that he loved for years.
Unfair yes he was retired and having fun, he took care of himself and didn't abuse his body with cigarettes, drugs or alcohol. He had more life to live even at the age us young people consider "old". He was sweet and generous and opened his house to both me and my mom on many occasions; it was funny when me and J broke up we didn't even tell our parents, for that entire summer 3 months they thought we were still together and socialized on Sundays :) I guess we didn't want to break up their fun times together.
I feel it most for his mom. She's not a NY socialite of OC wife; she's not out there searching for companionship or he next great love. She's had it and I can't see herself opening up like that. I guess I empathize because I've seen the lonliness loss of a mate can bring. Til this day I don't know how my mom does/did it for soooo many years. I've lived that life for 2 years and it is so lonely.

Loss of a parent brings up that question: Is it worse to lose or to never have? J asked me this question and then stopped but the words were already out. Having a father for a while vs never having one...he knew what my answer would be and immediately felt insensitive for bringing it up. Nonsense could I really even get mad with you at a time like this? Really no it doesn't matter in each case hurt is hurt neither more deserving of pity than the other.

So we sat on the phone for about 10mins before he said he had to go. I knew he had to cry it out. I said call back any time ... and he did and it was okay just so that he knew the entire world wasn't turning oblivious to his pain and loss - I was there, pain is real, reality is inescapable, yet the spirit survives.

I'm glad that he decided to run home one last time before the semester started. He spent his birthday with his dad this year. He got to spend time with him not knowing when he would pass but acknowledging that life is frail. I'm glad he got that because I know what it is like to get there just a little late. When my paternal grandmother died I got there 10 minutes too late. I had come home on vacation from school and my first stop was going to be there after I made a trip to the supermarket and helped with the cleaning....too late. Too late to hear the last thing she had to say...too late to hold her hand as she passed on...too late to look in her eyes before they closed forever. I still went into her room to see her and part of me regretted it. I sat and held her hand (now cold) and just cried silently sooooooooooo angry at myself.

I remeber the first time that I met her it was at her husband's (my grandfather's funeral). I think I barely understood what was going on. I was about 6? 7? and in my school uniform ushered to a funeral of a person I didn't know yet whose blood intimately mingled in my own. At this point I think I still hadn't even met my father and barely grasped the concept that he had parents (also my maternal grandmother died the year I was born so I only had photos). That day I met cousins I never knew I had, and aunts and uncles, and visited a house that should feel like home to me. After that whenever I would remember there was this other life I belonged to I would make requests to my mom to visit and she would drop me off and I would stay for a few hours. I was most relaxed around my younger cousin but alas around everyone else I felt like a guest. Yes they treated me well but I always felt like a visitor, but then my grandmother would sit me down and ask me all sorts of questions and "see" me. She was going blind so when I visited she would touch the face to see if it was as she remembered it and claim yes for certain features she felt she had given me :) (probably not the boobs I lucked out on that inheritance), but the height and legs check she claimed those too. And she would never send me home empty handed even on the day she died she had them set aside snacks and a little trinket for me :-(

I'm sorry for the abrupt ending but I ....I don't know what else to write nothing runs into that last memory.

But J flew home over the weekend and I know him and his brothers are trying to be strong making all the funeral arrangements etc, and he says his mom is fine but I know behind her superwoman stance there is that private ache - don't mothers know how to hide it so well.