Saturday, May 25, 2013

Priceless

I laid flat on my belly, gently tugging on my dog's leg.  "Please don't leave me," I said quietly.  "Please don't leave me alone."  My cry turned into sobbing.  It was the kind of sobbing you might mistake for soft laughter if not for the mucus steadily running down my face.  Zoe quickly appeared from under the couch, exited from the front and made a distinct & puposeful beeline for my face.  She licked my face as though she might lick away the sudden overwhelming feelings that stirred within me.

...

I have been alive for 32 years and in that 32 years I do not think I have spent as much time with my uncle as I have in the last few months.  After one surgery, his long hair had become matted and tangled after not having been brushed or washed in a week.  It took me the better part of an entire hour, or more possibly, to brush through the mass of tangles.  But I can also say I don't think either of us had laughed so hard in many weeks.

Darrell made it a comedy act and when he yelped, I laughed.  When I laughed, he carried on about how sadistic I was for laughing at his pain.  This is turn caused the two us as well as my mom to laugh even harder.  This is a very small explanation of Darrell's dark sense of humor.  I wonder if he's glad to know me and that I also have a similar sense of humor.

...

I laid on the rug sobbing, trying to regain control over myself.  I just want a simple life, I thought.  A simple life.  Shawn's suggestion to borrow more money to open the store is valid but it also means once again returning to heinous 18 hour days and well, borrowing more money.  That, paired with my weekly visit had me feeling a bit overwhelmed, to say the least.  Darrell wasn't doing so well today.  I go over there as much for him, as much as for my mom, and a little for myself.  His sense of humor had wained today for he was weak and in pain.  Mom showed me in private, the little booklet the hospice nurse had given her in secret as well. 

I quickly looked over it, speed reading as I have taught myself to do, and tried to commit to memory the items, the signs of impending doom before Darrell returned to the kitchen.  In a way, I have almost convinced myself that he will always live here under mom's care.  I'll remain 32 forever, he'll remain in his rocking chair, nearing 58 and smoking his Pall Mall cigarettes, laughing at my stupid jokes and I, at his.

That wouldn't be fair however.  It wouldn't be fair to have him pain forever and that is why we die.

I'm grateful for this newfound time together.  So much was stolen by harsh grudges, busyness, and life in general.  I've forgotten the past tears that seperated everyone for so long and figured out how to focus on the present without bothering to glimpse the future.  Mom, on the other hand, can seem to only focus in the coming future.  It is indeed a bleak future of quiet, no funeral, no ceremony, but finally a bit of rest for all.

Darrell looks forward to seeing his brothers & parents.  "But I'll be left all alone!" Mom once cried to me.  "You have us, Mom," I replied, with nothing else to possibly say.  What can you say to that?  Really, the only good thing regarding this bout with cancer (only about the upteenth time cancer has invaded our family) is that is brought a chance for brother & sister to reunite.  It forced a bitter man and a broken woman to finally reconnect and both are aware of how precious that is.

I suppose from an outside view, one could say perhaps it was worth it then. 


No comments:

Post a Comment