Topic: Grieving for myself, mending fences
If it were any other subject I would call it a good old fashioned "pity party" but it goes much deeper than that.
I guess I am just now dealing with the reality of it all. I have been so busy worrying about how others were going to be able to handle my illness and dying that I haven't stopped to think about my own. The last few nights I have gone into absolute hysterical fits of sobbing, no one around, nor do I want anyone around me. This morning was set off by reading the Home Depot insert in yesterday's paper, no more remodeling for me! I was reading about a high school athletic team and thought about my incredibly gifted son and the sky box I won't have.....well, not THAT kind of sky box.....I miss him so much already and he is napping on my bed across the hall!
Saturday I was writing in my journal and had to stop........
This week I found out that the pastor of my former parish has learned he most likely has pancreatic cancer. The man has been ill with various ailments for years and almost seemed relieved that it wasn't something he was going to have to fight, he was just going to let nature take its course. He and I had had a falling out a couple of years ago over the closing of my son's school and I hadn't been back to that church since, yet something told me I had to reach out to him. So, I went, and during Mass I went into what my friends call "Commander Mode". I told him that I wasn't sure why I needed to reach out, but that if he needed someone to share experiences I was there. I told him that it was a blessing and a curse to be a patient and a nurse, but if he needed help with the "big words" I was there to help. I told him that I needed to wipe away the bitterness and anger, and remember the kindnesses, such as when he spoke Spanish during my son's baptism (he was 5 and didn't speak English). And, being the practical person I gave him one of my treasured Eucerin Calming Creme tubes (oh so great for the itching that comes with liver failure) and other stuff that I had in my "cancer purse".
Toward the end of Mass when he was making his announcements and telling everyone about his illness I completely and utterly fell apart, for him, for us, for me, for everyone. I don't think I've ever cried that hard in my life, then again, I've never been diagnosed with a terminal disease before either...;)
I did go up to him and we made our peace, my mother had told him my news the night before, so he said "I understand we will be running a race to the pearly gates!"
Does the crying ever stop?