He started to have vision problems and went to the doctor only to find out he has cancer.
At first all the chatter in the family seemed remote. I heard the words but nothing registered, I felt compassion and sympathy for my cousins as if it was their "father" which meant something different to him being "my" uncle, but still nothing registered.
Sunday I spent most of the afternoon with my Aunt D as she made cornmeal porridge. We talked about how she'd nearly lost all of her brothers, 3 of the 4 have died and only the eldest is still alive, merely living, merely hanging on.
We talked about Uncle L and how severe his diagnosis's is and as I sat and asked question after question still nothing really took hold of me, nothing really shook me, nothing truly registered.
It was as if, once again I was talking life for granted, taking death for granted.
This morning, Uncle L's grand daughter emailed the family "minutes" from a meeting they had Sunday about Uncle L. While I was listening to the history of the family from Aunt D, Uncle L's children were subjected to the daunting task of gripping reality by the hand and shaking it until everything came out.
And out came the "minutes".....the inevitable truths of illness, medical bills, doctors, surgery and inevitably death, and funeral bills......
At first before reading the minutes, I said to myself "what does my little cousin know about the word "minutes"......and as I read I forced to accept the fact that my "little" cousin isn't so little anymore especially if she's recording the "minutes" of her grandfathers fate.
When I was done reading "the minutes" I was full of anguish, tears and fear.
The fear that I constantly forget that god doesn't promise us tomorrow and that's why he gave us today as the "present".
The fear that it took so long for it all to register and that I could have forgone cornmeal porridge Sunday and just scooped up Baby C and Aunt D and gone to visit Uncle L instead.
The fear that I whittle away each day with no purpose.
The fear that I one day need to have the "conversation" with my mother and create my own "minutes".
The fear that Baby C will one day have to create her "minutes" possibly alone if I don't have any more children. I think the fear of her doing it alone eats at my core more than the thought of her having to do it in the first place.
The fear that until we actually pass on it's hard to celebrate life and death "equally" with the knowledge, understanding and acceptance that this IS "our" journey.
Oh my, that is a powerful post. There is so much more to the thoughts and actions we must consider when a diagnosis is visited upon us. We are hopeful that our Last Will and Testament, our Revocable Living Trust, our Living Will and a DNR will make things much easier for our children but we know there will still be the "minutes".
ReplyDeleteso sorry to hear about your uncle :(
ReplyDeleteI had the same thoughts about having more children so that Jake wouldn't have to do it alone when we get older. I'm an only child myself and my parents are divorced. So I'm ABSOLUTELY freaked out by having to eventually deal with their deaths and more than likely doing it alone. It is part of the reason I have 2 kids for sure.
What a powerful post. That last line is a zinger, for sure. I can't imagine only having one...in good ways and in bad. In they end, they are 98% worth the aggravation, all three of 'em. I like knowing that when I'm gone, they'll still have each other.
ReplyDeletePraying for your family.
So sorry to hear that. I'll be praying for you and your family.
ReplyDeleteSo sorry to hear that. My prayers to your family during this hard time
ReplyDelete