It is nearly 3AM and I find myself thinking about a colleague from my grad school days. Diagnosed in November with cancer about which she was totally unaware, at 66 she learned she was dying and sent an e-mail letting me know. I called her to arrange a visit, and was put off as she was starting chemotherapy and having some surgery. Understandable. A birthday card was dispatched, hoping to bring her a bit of laughter amid the chaos swirling around her life. She then let me know she was registered with a website and would no longer send individual emails as that was too time consuming. Also understandable. She loved the card.
I visited the site and left a brief message to which she responded with an emoticon last month and upon another visit today, learned that the horrors of chemo proved more than she was willing to bear, and she has decided to simply live and die on her own terms with the help of Hospice. Originally given a couple of years with treatment, the timeline has now become much shorter and while she now seems in a better place and is once more able to post, I find myself grappling with how to say goodbye to her since there will be no opportunity for face-to-face contact.
I understand and support her decision and have told her so in my message today. I do plan to send her another card this weekend but find myself dealing with so many different emotions, some of which are no doubt related to past losses of loved ones closer to me who also died of cancer. My mother, two friends and two aunts come to mind. Past conversations with a therapist about grieving have taught me that each new loss brings with it the emotions of previous loss and so I know that what I am feeling is not uncommon or strange. It is what it is, a phrase I have grown to loathe because people say it so often without any real meaning attached to it, is the only thing going through my brain at the moment. Perhaps I will sleep on this.
20 comments:
Your therapist was, sadly, right. Each loss brings brings other losses to the forefront. I have learned that I cannot 'get over' them, but have to find a way to live with them. Not diminished, but altered.
Hugs. Be kind to yourself. Please.
People who live till their 90s and beyond often say that loss is the most difficult challenge when you live a long life. Everyone you know dies before you. Sometimes they let go while we are still hanging on. As I age, I think about choices surrounding my own death. I know that we don't always get a lot of choices at the end. Sometimes they are made for us by the illness or by relatives or doctors. It sounds like your friend chose her way. Sometimes the one who is dying accepts her fate before loved ones can. I found this to be true with my sister. She was ready. I needed a little more time, some face-to-face contact to say goodbye. A phone call had to be good enough. It took me a while to "grapple" with that. It felt... I don't know... incomplete, unfinished. I'm sorry for your loss, and sorry that your friend was ripped away so suddenly and so young.
Thank you.
She's not gone yet, but I understand what you are saying because of my own experiences. Thanks.
This is so hard. If you can't sit with her in person, you can just keep sending her messages, letting her know she is not forgotten, that she matters, and you are beaming her love on this uncharted journey.
This is always such a tough thing to handle. I hope you find a way that will work for you and your friend. And I hope she slips away peacefully and pain-free. We never truly get over the losses along the way; we simply learn to live with a new normal, one that is oftentimes paved by grief.
This is a two part question. First, what to say to her and second regarding your own feelings. Any letter, or email that revisits a shared experience that might be warmly remembered, has a good chance of being well received. Knowing that those memories will never be taken from you, will, I hope, help you too.
I absolutely encourage you to send her s letter of card. Most people don't do things like that.
Sending you love. Grief and loss is brutal. It has its way with us, doesn't it?
I echo Birdie's comment, dear friend. Much love and hugs to you.
I'm sorry your friend - and you - are going through this. I think EC said it well. We don't get over our losses but go forward as different people. End of life choices have never been far from my mind since my dad's illness and passing. And that was only one loved one lost. I am dreading further losses as time passes.
You are doing a good thing by remembering your friend in concrete ways. It can be uncomfortable to do, but I expect it means a lot to her.
Grieving... for me it seems such a confusing storm. The sadness and gratitude for those I've loved mixing into such a disorienting concoction of turmoil and joy. I'm glad you have been to speak with her and send cards. Always know that you can go on loving anyone long after they're gone. Sending extra love and hugs your way.
Oh E I'm so very sorry. I lived this with Donna and we had nightly phonecalls till the end. I shared all the vignettes and the laughs and the sadness too. You may be able to express this in writing to her. How much she means to you.
And having been thru 6 months of grief counseling I know about all the other losses opening up.
XO
WWW
Yes! She has good people around her, so she is not alone. I would hope for the same in her shoes.
You're right. Thanks for your kind words.
Yes, it certainly does, and I sent flowers for Spring.
Thank you, Linda. You are always so kind. Love and hugs back to you!
Thanks, I hope so! Best to you.
You're so right, it can be a disorienting concoction, but so is the rest of life. Thanks for your kind words and hugs. Right back at you, sweet Hannah!
I do know you know---more than most, and I will write her though the words will be hard to find...thanks for your kind thoughts.
That's hard. I had a very dear friend die from cancer while we were in grad school. I remember when he decided it was time to just stop treatment (after he'd been through chemo and radiation and nothing was working). He died at home with hospice and I visited just before the end. There is no good way to say goodbye to someone you love.
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