The Cheeky Kiss

I had a tough day today. There are dark circles under my eyes, clouds are over and it feels like the life has been drained from world now that Shannon is gone. When my youngest son came home he put on his girlfriends lipstick and gave me a kiss on the cheek.


What a silly boy. It did make me feel a lot better.

Friends and Saying Goodbye

I've been meaning forever to post this photo. It's of an art fundraiser my friends put on for me when I was in treatment. I was allowed home to the island for a few days in between treatments before my transplant and so I surprised them by showing up. I hadn't seen my kids or any of my friends until then, so it was a hugely joyous occasion. None of us had the magnitude of what I was going through hit us yet.

The two paintings in the background are mine. My friends collected, donated and sold tons of artwork to financially help out my sons and I, and they did a fantastic job. This photo also shows a thousand cranes that many hands folded for me. I guess it worked because I'm still here.

Shannon, on the far left passed away suddenly a few days ago. She had a stomach ache, went to the hospital and then came home and went to bed. And now she is gone, I can scarcely believe it.

It's so difficult to believe. She was such a creative and bright force. She was always smiling and bringing creative projects to life. She loved vintage things, friends, helping others, her husband and children. She made our small community a better place. When she moved in next door to me, she brought big ideas and made them a reality in our little stagnant town.

She taught me a lot, the main thing being that I could let myself be a creative person and let it show. She introduced me to Fluevogs, she borrowed and wore my vintage dresses with a flourish and she spread colour wherever she went. She would dye her hair wild colours constantly and she always made it look gorgeous. The last thing she did on Facebook was say if 50 people hit the 'like' button, she would dye her hair pink in support of fighting breast cancer. I'm pretty sure she would have done it either way.

After I met her I found the gumption to cut off all my hair and dye it purple for my 30th birthday. I found the courage to pack up my children and move in search of new adventures and opportunity. She was a doer. Once she told me that she didn't understand the creative people in her life. She said that we are gifted with so many ideas but we often don't do them. She would take an idea and not sit on it for a second. She would run with that idea and make it a smashing reality. I found a lot of good in knowing her.

I guess I never really said it before, but she changed my life. I had been discouraged from being myself as a vibrant artist and human being my entire life but she lead by example. I followed her blazing path and then onto my own.

Without knowing it, she helped me become me.

Intangebility

I don't seem to belong here. A few days ago I wrote the words, "I feel lost and out of place in my own life", on a forum and hit send before it had occurred to me that I even wrote it.


My sons are teenagers now and have their own lives, separate from mine. When they converse with me, they usually want something. I'm the driver, the lame unhip old person who keeps them from all the cool stuff they could be doing if they had no rules. I'm the barrier. The harder I try to spend the limited energy I have on them, the more they have to lament about.

This is normal. I've always known it would happen and these days would pass.

The problem is, I almost left them forever. Will I still be here when that time comes?

Life seems intangible right now. It's right there but I can't seem to touch it.

What Now?

I've been starting to feel so much better. I'm finally not in bed all the time and I'm getting stronger every day. It's been two years since my transplant and almost 2 1/2 since I started treatment. Three years since I became ill.

I had plans and a life. Huge glorious plans that were coming along perfectly when I suddenly became sick. I had a casual position at the university library. I had my routines where I saw friends and did things on the weekend. I used to run every morning and sit at the beach listening to the waves lap at the rocks before school. I was wrapping up my bachelors degree and was doing so well I was expecting scholarships to take my masters in New Zealand. I had worked long and hard toward all of my goals, my life was sculpted and exactly where I wanted it to be. I had long term dreams that were finally within reach and money in the bank. I felt so satisfied with life that I thought my feet may just spontaneously float off the ground.

Then things began to unravel a little. Next thing you know, I'm being airlifted to a major hospital.

As I my skin was grey and they were pumping morphine and chemotherapy into me in another city I couldn't help but think I'd be back in a couple of months. I honestly thought I'd roll back into my life and continue as I was. Not for a moment did I think my life was in danger or that I wouldn't get through it all.

I'm a wee bit stubborn and I don't give up. I was actually arguing with my professor from my hospital bed because they wanted to lowball my grade for missing the last two weeks of University and my grad project. I told them I would complete it as soon as I got out. I told them I'd worked too long to give up at the end! They bumped my grade closer to where it should have been.

I went through almost a year of active treatment and patiently waited and waited to get better. My unwavering sense that I would be okay eventually began to fade. Two years is a long time to wait. My GP said I should accept that I have a chronic illness and should speak to a counsellor on how to proceed with my life as such. I had a lot of mental adjusting to do. Sometimes accepting where you are at that moment is the right thing to do.

Now that all the fanfare has faded and my friends have wandered off, now that no one would even recognize me where I used to work, now that almost every piece of my old life is gone, I am feeling the weight of illness leave me. I have periods of elation, mental strength and a stubborn push to move forward. I also have periods of fear and loss.

I am lost.

I feel like an Etch-a-sketch that has been turned upside down and shaken. There is still the faint outline of where my life used to be.

How do I really know if I take a step forward, there will still be ground beneath my feet? How do I know where to go when the dreams and options I had are gone. I am not physically or mentally where I used to be.

I have the most intense feeling of that fear inspired question hovering over me, what now?