Get your classiest hanky ready.
Candice went into palliative care on a Thursday. I got a text message from Monika making sure that I had checked her cancer blog and then saying “HUGGSS”. I was still responsible for the care of 20 boisterous pre-teenagers but my mind checked out. I couldn’t get to the internet that day until a few hours after the text message. It was then that I found out what was going on. I wept at my desk for a few moments until a coworker found me and we talked about our experiences with loved ones and cancer.
When I left Candice in Berkley this summer, I had this horrible feeling in my chest that it was the last time I’d see her. This was the same feeling I had when I saw my Grandma a few months before she passed. To be fair, Candice wasn’t well, she had just had three serious seizures only a couple of days before and was in and out of the hospital for chemo related nausea. I overheard the doctor in the neuro-ICU talk to Joe about end of life preparations when he pulled him aside, the only time I couldn’t hide my tears that day, trying to stay strong for Joe as he grabbed a few tissues for me.
Over the past month, my Seattle Family has played an important part in my healing. Resting my head on Monika’s shoulder and having her head fall on mine as we cried during the memorial didn’t heal any wounds but it felt good anyway. Balling my eyes out with Trevor about how unfair life can be, countless numbers of big hugs from acquaintances that now feel like friends, porch beverages that last for months, and a cherished little piece of fabric will not stop what hurts but does offer strange comfort.
The memorial hit me harder than I thought it would.
My memories are an affirmation of life but that doesn't make it easier. I lost one of my greatest friends and the world still feels lonely knowing she's not part of it.
So today I bring you two things.
First, Jesse Sykes and the Sweet Hereafter's Oh My Girl
Candice went into palliative care on a Thursday. I got a text message from Monika making sure that I had checked her cancer blog and then saying “HUGGSS”. I was still responsible for the care of 20 boisterous pre-teenagers but my mind checked out. I couldn’t get to the internet that day until a few hours after the text message. It was then that I found out what was going on. I wept at my desk for a few moments until a coworker found me and we talked about our experiences with loved ones and cancer. When I left Candice in Berkley this summer, I had this horrible feeling in my chest that it was the last time I’d see her. This was the same feeling I had when I saw my Grandma a few months before she passed. To be fair, Candice wasn’t well, she had just had three serious seizures only a couple of days before and was in and out of the hospital for chemo related nausea. I overheard the doctor in the neuro-ICU talk to Joe about end of life preparations when he pulled him aside, the only time I couldn’t hide my tears that day, trying to stay strong for Joe as he grabbed a few tissues for me.
Over the past month, my Seattle Family has played an important part in my healing. Resting my head on Monika’s shoulder and having her head fall on mine as we cried during the memorial didn’t heal any wounds but it felt good anyway. Balling my eyes out with Trevor about how unfair life can be, countless numbers of big hugs from acquaintances that now feel like friends, porch beverages that last for months, and a cherished little piece of fabric will not stop what hurts but does offer strange comfort.
The memorial hit me harder than I thought it would.
My memories are an affirmation of life but that doesn't make it easier. I lost one of my greatest friends and the world still feels lonely knowing she's not part of it.
So today I bring you two things.
First, Jesse Sykes and the Sweet Hereafter's Oh My Girl
Next, Candice and I at secret spot.
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