Thursday, July 30, 2009
I don't remember my life without Steve in it. He's always been big. Big belly, big voice, big mind, big heart. Great hugs. M&Ms. A feeling that I was special and loved - not just for who my dad was but because I was awesome. Janet and I my mom always had that weird mommy contest going on (Jake walked first - I talked first) but Fat Stevie was always just funny and, well, great. I'm not saying the man doesn't have his flaws - but I love him. His family has always just been a part of our family.
My Dad is 80. He's had a couple cancer scares. I've grown used to the idea that he will not be around to walk me down the aisle. I always thought it would be Steve.
He tells people that his Dad is Black. It cracks my father up to be the adopted father to all of these Jewish guys. We've been to more bar and bat mitzvahs...
The thing I am trying to avoid putting down on the screen is that Steve has cancer. It started in his pancreas and has metastasized. It's all over him now. There is a big doctor's appointment soon and then we'll know a lot more but for now it's expect the worst-hope for the best time.
This is not something I can deal with. And if I can't how can his wife and his kids? This is just wrong. All wrong. You prepare yourself for some things in this life. You walk them through in your head - all the steps you'll have to take to make it out to the other side. You do this so that when the time comes you will not fall all the way apart - or if you do you will do it inside where no one can see. You will be strong.
This is not one of those things. This is just another in a long line of things that God has planned that make me want to tell her that her plan sucks. That the 'appalling strangeness of the mercy of God' is just at this moment appalling to me. I am so angry and I don't know where to go with any of it.
I want him to live. If that isn't going to happen then I want him to have as much joy in the time he has left as he would in a long life and none of the misery. I want to figure out how to be there for my father while he outlives yet another friend who has been taken way too soon. I want to make this all OK for his family, my family. Most of all I want to go back to the weekend afternoons in the Kaminsky backyard when the biggest problem I had was Steve and my Dad doing cannon balls into the pool and drenching us kids. When all I wanted was to one day be allowed into the basketball games they all played in the driveway and having to go home was all I dreaded.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Danielle’s funeral is tomorrow.
When she died she was 27 years old and had been married less than 300 days.
I’m trying to remember that there is a cosmic plan. I’m trying not to be irrationally angry at every one and every thing around me. Let me tell you, it ain’t working.
This shit pisses me off. She didn’t do anything. She wasn’t a smoker or a big drinker. She worked out. She didn’t do drugs. She was kind and smart and funny. Her husband loved her and she loved him. She had a dog – but she never got to have children.
And I know that she got to have and do and know more in her life than many, many others. And I know that shitty things happen to good people every day.
But I really don’t care. I’m pissed. Because my best friend has to go to Danielle’s funeral tomorrow and I can’t be there to hold her hand. Because ANYONE has to go to Danielle’s funeral at all.
I sent flowers to her family and I donated to the Vasculitis Foundation in her name but what I really wanted to do was go stand outside and yell to the heavens. I want to throw things and stomp and wail at the base unfairness of it all.
This is bullshit. I don’t feel like being mature, or rational, or spiritual right now. It’s bullshit. I want my friend back. I want my friends not to have to feel this pain. I want to fix it. I want this to have never happened. I want Wegner’s not to exist.
I want Danielle to call Val and say it was all a horrible joke.