For the last two weeks I’ve been trying to finish this post. I want to write this so I can move on to….well, I guess sweeter things (at least as much as I can “move on” under the circumstances). This is another one of my personal posts, so if you’re not interested skip til tomorrow (hopefully I’ll have something of use to all the dessert freaks out there then, despite it all I still bake, I have to assuage the grief somehow so why not with sweets).
My Aunt Barbara died May 29th, two weeks ago tomorrow, from cancer. That’s her holding me when I was a babe (good grief, I had fat arms even then!). The guy kissing my head is my Uncle Bob, who passed away March last year, from God knows what but probably some complication due to the medication he was on all his life for manic depression. Along with my Grandfather last September, that’s three family members in a little over a year. *big sigh*
I don’t even know what to say anymore. There’s just this giant welling of feeling that I can’t even describe when I think about all of this. I feel a literal flooding of emotion that starts in my belly and rises to the top of my head. And I HATE crying. I hate it with a passion. The reasons why would be a much longer post, and more navel-gazing than I’d rather do on this blog (even though this post appears to be nothing but). Still, I have to talk about the barrage of loss I’ve been experiencing since it has kept me from blogging in over two weeks.
I’ve done a lot of offline writing about this, and while I’d like to give everyone some words of wisdom or signs of the softer side of humanity, the overwhelming feeling that I’ve had has been one of anger. I’m mad. I’m mad, mad, mad, mad, mad. I’m mad at the unlived life of my Aunt, dying at 54. I’m mad that the life she did live was at times poisoned by unfulfilled dreams. I’m mad at the fact that the mental illness of my Uncle (in the picture) has wrought a chasm so wide and deep within our family that it keeps us so far apart from each other like so many dots that make up the picture of our family tree, even when we’re standing next to each other. I’m mad. Mad-ness. This is what overtakes me when I’m so very hurt.
I don’t necessarily believe in fate or kismet. I like to see signs of some overreaching, beneficent hand that spreads the threads of our lives out into some glorious universal tapestry. I’d like to believe that and I try. That’s why the irony of my happening upon a favorite book just in the last week before my Aunt’s passing is not lost on me. Harlan Ellison’s Angry Candy
It’s taken these two weeks to just get through the introduction of the book. Harlan was mad too. I found this comforting when rage started to turn to guilt for not feeling a more proper emotion. His anger was at the loss. Not seeing the smile of a loved one, or being able to call them up on the phone and talk about….whatever. While I feel that anger too, I’m also mad that her life wasn’t better. Not to say that it was miserable or anything. She had a great husband, my Uncle Danny, and two kids, my cousins Ryan and Alex. But I know she wanted more from life, and that she worried. But the fact of the matter is that I’m selfish, and I wanted more for her, but since her life was cut short before she could achieve…whatever she happened to hope for herself, why the hell should I expect more out of life for myself…why do I deserve it more than her when I don’t. Gah. Talk about navel-gazing.
I’m going to leave you with a quote from the introduction to Harlan’s book, “There is little anyone can say that makes sense and doesn’t read as arrant foolishness. Dead is dead, and we all feel as if we’ve driven cross-country without any sleep or break, when someone we need is taken away.”
{ 9 comments… read them below or add one }
I don’t know what to say, except that I am sorry for your loss and all that you are going through. Take care of yourself.
I’m so sorry to hear about your Aunt. A great loss in your life is never easy to take. She has kind eyes. I lost my grandfather to cancer about five months ago and I know how horrible it is to watch.
I, too, was angry when he passed. I think it’s a normal feeling when you lose someone and begin to evaluate their life. You can never ask them if they were truly happy with the way they lived and the life that they had. It does bring your own mortality into play.
It will get better. I can promise you that. Although it may not feel like it now, it will. I’m so sorry again for your loss.
I’m sorry for your loss. You aunt is no longer suffering or in pain and can rest in peace. My condolences to you and your family. You will get through this. Take all the time you need.
Thank you for this post. It is nice to be able to read something about death that does not include the phrases “God has a reason” or “they are in a better place.” I know that you mean about just feeling inexplicably mad sometimes about it. I am so very sorry for your loss.
I’m glad you shared this. Thanks. May you find peace in time, and may that chasm be bridged.
oh amy I’m so so sorry. Okay, I’m calling you now… love you
I’m so sorry for your loss and sorrow. I’m sure you will find inspiration in the fact that as you live you can make good use of your life and fulfill your dreams. Moreover, continue to grow your family’s relationships.
AmyRuth
Hi Aimee,
I just found your blog by chance, looking at cupcake pics… I have been very melancholy lately as it’s coming up to 4 years since my mom passed away from breast cancer… I had so much angry and sadness… well, you know the emotions that go with losing ones you love… I wanted to write to share my sympathies with you… I know it’s something that is very hard to move past… I still miss my mom soooo very much… even though life goes on… it’s hard not to think of our loved ones on a daily basis and how there is no way we can communicate with them or see them… All my best to you.. and I’m very sorry for the loss of your loved ones…
First I want to apologize for the delay on getting back to these comments. For a more detailed, if not illuminating, post on why there was a delay please read the post right after this one. I do want to let you all know that I deeply appreciate each of your comments.
Pamela, I’ve found myself in the same situation and I haven’t known what to say. I think no one can ever know what to say in these circumstances, and we each deal with loss in our own way. There is comfort in listening though, and I appreciate that you took the time to read this post and to comment.
Sabriena, I’m so sorry about your Grandfather. Your comment helped me to feel that I’m not alone in my grief and anger in addition to the requisite contemplation that always seems to be the unwanted gift in all of this. I’ve done a lot of thinking in the last months, and I don’t know if I’m closer to any answers, but I do feel an….evolving, if you know what I mean. Anyways, thank you for commenting.
Jenn, *with a chuckle* This is all your fault! I remember reading your comment about, “Take all the time you need” and I felt like I was just let out of school. I breathed a sigh of relief, and turned away from my blog for these last months. I’m not sure that my blog is better for it, but I am…somehow. I can’t really explain it. Anyways, thank you for being so supportive!
Mary, You and I are definitely on the same wavelength. While I try to see all that, “there’s a reason for everything” crap, a lot of the time I just get frustrated. I’m still trying to find peace with all of this, but the anger is still there. Most days it’s lukewarm, but others it can still burn white hot. I’m glad I could, in a small way, validate some of the anger we all feel from death. Thank you for your comment.
Chou, Thank you for that heartfelt comment. I don’t know if the “chasm” has been bridged yet, but it doesn’t seem as deep. Thanks again.
Steph, We’ve talked, and you’ve gone through your own roller coaster since this. I’m so thankful for your friendship and I hope I can be as good a friend to you as you have to me. (Love your gravatar by the way!)
AmyRuth, I try to do just as you said every day. I’m still searching out my purpose, and I’m not sure if I’m any closer. Many things seem insurmountable, but I try to keep the hope alive. As to my family, ugh. It’s a tough one, but something I know I’ll need to deal with more fully at some point. Anyways, thanks for your comment.
Leesa, I am so, so sorry to hear about your Mother. I know from my own Mother’s experience when we lost my Grandmother that the loss of a mother doesn’t ever go away. It’s been over ten years and she can still feel the loss keenly. In addition to everything else, I have been FREAKING out about my own Mom since she’s had some bleeding and she’s way past post-menopausal. We both don’t have insurance, so all I’ve basically been able to do is just pray. I can’t imagine going on without her right now, so I’m praying very hard. My heart goes out to you, and I wish you all the best. Thank you so much for commenting.