Saying Goodbye
So, today I said goodbye to my
aunt Carol Lynn, who's going back home to Holland tomorrow. She came not only to see my sister get married, but also to say goodbye to our family. She's been struggling with Lou Gehrig's disease for almost a year, and it's finally progressed deeply enough into the vocal area that she relies on alternate modes of communication, such as writing things down on paper or using a cool machine she has that "speaks" after she types in sentences. This is her on the left with my cousin Max, when they went up to Paradise on Mount Rainer with my aunt and uncle. I love her moose hat! I went to the mall this morning and got her a really cool beaded belt, because she's been losing weight really rapidly (due to not being able to eat most foods), and it felt really surreal...it felt like I was going to give her something for her birthday, but really, it's more like giving her something to say goodbye...an unbirthday...I wrote her a letter and, again, I was saying all those things you normally say to someone on their birthday because it's an excuse to put your appreciation for someone into words, but I couldn't shake the knowledge that it was really a letter to say everything I wanted to say before she dies.I've thought and talked with friends/family about the question of whether you'd like to know when you're going to die. In a way, it's a blessing for her to know approximately when you're going to die because it allows you the time and space to say all that you want to say to people in your life and do things you've always wanted to do, and for everyone in your life to make peace in whatever way they desire. There's nothing sadder at a funeral than the sense that you wish you could have said x, y, or z. Carol Lynn and I discussed this a little when I visited last fall; she was able to take classes she'd been putting off and make amends with people because she knew there wasn't an infinite amount of time in which to do so (which there isn't, really, for any of us, we just are in a position to ignore that fact).
Yet, and she's said this as well, on a selfish level of course it would be easier for us all if we just died totally unexpectedly. She mentioned this in a recent email - it would be so much easier to just get hit by a car than to have to witness your body failing, go through the frustrations every day, hour, minute. I think the worst part of what she's going through must be the incongruous feeling of having your brain be the same, still having the same thoughts and feelings and reactions, but not being able to interact with the world in the way in which you've been accostomed for over 50 years (talking, laughing, etc) because of the body's failings...it would be one thing to know you were going to die in one week or one month so you could quickly make amends and perhaps see something you'd always wanted to see, but to know you are going to die sometime soon, but it's not clear exactly when, and that you will have to witness you body slowly failing, that's just, well, hard, to say the obvious.
Yet, I can't think of her and dwell on the negative, because she's just been so courageous and strong throughout this...which isn't to say she's denied the negative, because she's also been refreshingly honest! But, she's absolutely done everything she could do on any given day...she went to Mt. Rainer with my cousins, came out SWING dancing with me at the Century Ballroom last wednesday (it was adorable, everyone thought she was my mom because she was taking pictures!), she saw the tulips in northern washington with my parents, etc. That's just her! She's always been so proactive, so ever ready to go anywhere or do anything in the name of fun...we went dancing quite a bit in Holland last fall, and I remember going to numerous arts and crafts fairs, musical performances, and other artsy events with her.
I told her this in the letter: there's a big artist within me that would very likely have been left on the sidelines during my young adulthood as I pursued soccer, running, and academic interests, but my interactions with her (whether they were for a full week during spring break or just a few hours over christmas) always sparked me to go back to my beads or my painting or listen to some world music or try a new form of dance...to me, she represents a life of passion and of art, and all the joys and frustrations that go along with the creative process, and above all honesty with oneself and others. She already did enough with her life to fill 100 years...I just hope that the remainer is as peaceful as possible, because she does not deserve to live in any sort of pain.
| posted by Cheryl, 4/15/2006 06:57:00 PM
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