Time

It's been another in a series of weird (and not in a great way) weeks around here.

On Saturday 18th, one of my HS besties' Dad passed away after a two year cancer battle. He was a genuinely lovely man, who was always so welcoming, and who, in fact, tried to get me a job at his company when he knew I was unhappy at mine (alas, early 2000's hiring freezes...). And of course, her losing her Dad, particularly in August, was an all too familiar thing. It was strange. The last time I'd seen my friend in person was right after he'd been diagnosed, two years ago. And in recent weeks, he'd been on my mind SO MUCH. Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe it was intuition, I'm not sure. I hate that I'm of the age where my friends and I are losing parents. I don't mind aging overall, but this part sucks.

Later in the week, I learned that a friend of mine from HS, my prom date, in fact, had passed away suddenly at 42. This one hit really hard. I'm not going to front like we were besties. That would be disingenuous. But we had known each other from early childhood, been friendly through HS, attended the aforementioned prom, shared friends from both our hometown and his adopted hometown up in VT (which is close to where E grew up and is therefore full of E's friends and relatives). He was just a genuinely great, friendly, kind guy. The kind you feel glad to know. The kind it stings to lose, particularly so relatively early in life. A lot of our interaction was over social media recently, as is the case so often, but I'll miss his sweet posts about his wife and family, his smiley pics, his jokey, often light heartedly self deprecating comments, and his presence. I hope he knows the impact he had on the world and how many of us will genuinely miss him.

I guess events like this always bring to mind mortality, and the passage of time, and all of that, don't they? And then, this time of year also always brings to mind the passage of time. When new school years begin, it reminds us of where we've come from. It seems like just yesterday that my babies were babies. The day after tomorrow, they start 5th and 2nd grades. Life goes by fast. And sometimes, it's not as long as we'd like. And while it's going on, it's not always easy (understatement of all time). But there are good parts. There are always good parts. And the best we can do is try our best to focus on the good parts.

Heart

I can't sleep. It's 1 am on a Sunday night. I didn't sleep enough last night. I should REALLY be asleep right now. But I can't sleep.

2018 hasn't been my favorite year. August hasn't been my favorite month in several years. As someone who generally searches for the good in things, this type of negative feeling weighs heavy. But it's there, and denying that it's there wouldn't make it any less true.

A couple of weeks ago, while B was away at camp, E had a break down. She missed him so much, and she was very emotional about it. And then in the midst of that, she shared that she just doesn't want to be bald anymore. She wants her hair back. Of course she does. And as her Mom, boy did that tear me up inside. As I've said from the jump, Alopecia is far from the worst thing she could have going on. But that doesn't mean it's not hard as hell for all of us. Knowing that my little girl is struggling, and that there's nothing I can do about it is hard.

This past week, she had a virus that's been going around. And I'm not sure whether it was directly related to the virus or what, but now she's missing some eyelashes on her left eye. Because losing the hair on her head wasn't enough. Now her beautiful, long eyelashes that frame her gorgeous grey/hazel eyes. Pardon the expletive, but come the fuck on, universe. Cut the kid a damn break.

I work really hard on remaining positive with her about her condition. So far, she hasn't noticed the eyelashes, and I'm working to make it not a big deal as well/much/long as I can. But sometimes, I need to vent about this stuff, because it's hard and it's scary and we all know that this space is how I process hard and scary things.

This girl is a special light in this world, and I want to preserve that in any way that I can. If I can. I feel kind of powerless just now.

But then, as all this is going on, she has been invited to take part in a photo shoot for a fundraising calendar on behalf of Alopecia Awareness. She gets to wear a beautiful dress and makeup and accessories and be photographed. This is so up her alley. It came along just exactly at the right time, I think.

When we first started dealing with this, the thought that she could potentially be a voice for this condition, an inspiration to others, was what kept me going. I faltered a bit because she's had a rough patch. But I do think that potential is still there. She has an uncanny ability to inspire smiles and kindness in people. I have to believe that means something. I have to believe that, this cloud too, will have a silver lining. I know that it will. It's just harder to hold onto that belief sometimes than it is others, you know?

She's my baby. Like ee cummings phrased it, she carries my heart. She carries it in her heart.

Five

Yesterday was the fifth anniversary of my Dad's death. Five years. It seems inconceivable. Yet, here we are. B has now lived as much life without his Papa as he did with him. E is an entirely different human from the toddler he knew. Big E's and my lives are different in so very many ways.

Five years feels like some sort of milestone. And yet, in grieving terms, it's a pretty long time. And there's this societal expectation that grieving, like, ends or something, as time passes. And that expectation is horse shit. Because grieving evolves, but it doesn't end.

This week was a really rough week. I had some stuff I was working on that I was really struggling with. The line of work I'm in doesn't come naturally to me. I struggle with it a lot. It's similar to the line of work I was in for 10 years when I was younger. And back then, it stripped me of my confidence completely, and I'm not prepared to allow that to happen again. But I also don't want to give up until I get to where I want to be. So, this week sucked. And what sucked the most was that the person who could most have helped me, both from a practical standpoint, and just from a supportive, advice giving standpoint, is gone. In fact, at one point this week, I'd decided I SHOULD just quit. And I was driving, and a cardinal all but dive bombed my car. So. I guess that was his way of telling me I'm not quitting. So, I'm not quitting. But I found myself being really angry at him in the moment. Which was weird.

B has become a really good athlete. He plays football (D-end, just like my Dad), baseball (loves catcher like my Dad did), among others. I think all the time about how much my Dad would've LOVED watching him play.

And then there's E. I think all the time about how proud he would've been at her courage and her determined positivity.

This is not even to mention his other nine grandchildren, four of whom he never met.

It blows. And it doesn't stop hurting. It gets less raw and sharp, sure. But it doesn't go away.

People handle loss and grieving in different ways. I handle it by talking about him and writing about him and keeping his memory alive. I guess in some ways, the loss of him is kind of a defining part of who I am, for better or worse (worse - all worse). I know that some of my family members wouldn't even think of putting pieces of writing out there, particularly after five years. But this is my process. Always has been, probably always will be.

Miss you, Papa. We're all ok.