Lately I have been reminded of several losses in my life. Rather than dwell on the deep sadness I feel, I would like to honor these special people in my life. First are my grandparents, Ben and Bess. My paternal grandparents were Slavic immigrants who came to the United States via Ellis Island. Bess was a woman who was deeply passionate about her children and her husband. If she loved you, you could do no wrong. If she didn't, truly, you could do nothing right. One of her best pieces of advice to her daughters was: "Love no man with all of your heart. Save some for yourself." Quite enlightened words for someone who emigrated when she was only twelve years old.
My grandfather loved music, poetry, and nature's beauty. He even named his youngest daughter Blossom in honor of the beautiful apple blossoms in the Spring in the Northeast. He also emigrated when he was quite young. Like my grandmother, he too worked in the sewing factories like many other immigrants of their time. Eventually they turned to farming, raising a family, and doing their best to live a spiritual but non-religious life. To them religion was rigid and unyielding whereas spirituality enriched their awareness and meaning of life.
I learned about leukemia and what it was during my first grade year in school. My best friend missed many days of class and yet when she was there, she was gentle and kind. I knew she was sick but I had no idea that she was to leave this earth so soon. In looking back I can understand why she and I got along. She seemed like the only one who seemed to not judge or critique my traumatic brain injury challenges. We both had our good days and bad. When I heard from a fellow student and then our teacher that my friend had died, I felt like the world was cruel. How could I lose my friend? Where did she go? Why could I not see her ever again? In the years that have passed, I have thought of her often. I feel blessed to have known her and am grateful for her friendship.
My paternal aunt Syl was Blossom's sister. Syl was an independent, opinionated, passionate soul who did her best to live her life deeply from her heart. She would often advocate for her patients despite the doctors' disapproval. During her nursing career, she went from conventional medical care to work using chelation to help patients detox and strengthen their systems. My aunt loved nature and deeply honored her family and was the glue that kept many of us connected. I remember the last day I saw her. She was in a hospital bed, dying of bone cancer. Despite her pain, she still reached out to me when I spoke to her. Even though she never opened her eyes that day, the warmth of her touch has stayed with me over twenty years later.
During my community college days, I met a gentleman who worked in the audio visual department. After an evening's performance of California Suite, he and I both attended the cast party. We had talked on occasions prior to that night and were friendly. That night he complimented me on the job I did in the play and asked me to dance. At the end of the night he walked me to my car and gently kissed me goodnight. This would be the last night I would see him. After the party, he went home and took his life. He was a very kind and pleasant man with a delightful sense of humor. On the outside, no one knew his pain. I remember walking past his office wondering how this man could be so alive and then so quickly gone from this earth. I felt a deep emptiness as I passed that department for months. Things would be forever changed without him.
The death of my father came at the end of a two week visit back East. My mother had called one night and told me that she couldn't handle him this night. She had been his primary care giver during the last eighteen months of his life while he had advanced Alzheimer's disease. This night she called for an ambulance to help get him up off of the floor and it was to be the beginning of the end. After a trip to the emergency room by ambulance, admission to the local hospital, he was discharged into hospice care over an hour from my parents' home. I remember the last time she and I saw him. We had already explained to his doctor that we didn't want him to suffer and that he should be made as comfortable as possible. The last day as he lay in bed unconscious, my mother and I said our goodbyes. It was not emotional or sappy, just as he would have wanted. That night we received the phone call that he had passed. During his funeral, I spoke and then I presented the honor guard. The military members who numbered more than our family at the service came out, did a twenty one gun salute, folded and then presented my father's military flag to my mother. It was during their brilliant performance that I sobbed. Perhaps it was for the amazing ritual I saw, maybe for the tears in my mother's eyes, or just maybe it was because the strongest man I ever knew was now being laid to rest. I cried like I never had before that day or after. To lose my father, who certainly was not flawless yet was my hero none the less, was an experience that has changed me forever.
I have lost other friends and family and numerous beloved animals which I may write about another day. This day is about honoring these very special people who touched my life and have moved on. Sometimes I miss them so much. Some days it's hard to remember details I swore I would never forget. Perhaps in understanding more of my own challenges, I feel it necessary to look at loss in a whole new way. Grief, like love, is ever changing and perhaps expanding. I have lost a lot of those I considered my closest family. My identity was wrapped into those people, schools, and moments. As I move along my journey to healing, I will treasure all that these wonderful people gave me and helped me to become.
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