Wednesday, November 4, 2009

One More Time Around

I had told myself I wouldn't keep telling my stories.
No one really wants to hear them anyway.
Yet, here I am again.
I had told myself I wouldn't keep telling my stories.
I should live the lessons! Feel the love!
But I still have a story.
And it still makes me cry.

Two months ago yesterday, Gary died. Bone cancer.
I was there. My hand on his leg - just above his ankle.
Repeatedly, I tell people I am sad...but it is a clean sad. Then I wonder. Was it ever messy?
Gary loved me. I knew that. But he loved me much more than I ever knew.
This is also something I keep repeating.
I didn't know he loved me that much. He loved me as a daughter.

I was honored to lay next to him on his bed as he slept.
I was honored to spoon ice chips into his tired, parched mouth.
I loved smiling at him even though he could barely open his eyes.
I loved how strong I felt when I was around him. I wasn't me. I was so much bigger.
I marveled at the way we all loved one another as visitors came and went, coming to love and say good-bye. I was honored to hold the phone to his ear when someone else called to share love and say good-bye.
I chuckle at how many times I said good-bye. Who am I to predict death? Ha! Until the last good-bye was whispered... and I knew it was the one. Ten minutes later...

I didn't know Gary loved me that much.
Nor did I realize he, of all people, would show me how to truly open to receive it, not just give it. This is the lesson I am far from mastering, but slowly learning. It didn't just plant a seed. It is seared into my soul.

Waves of grief come at the oddest of times. A couple of days ago, I started bawling while drying my hair. Laughter quickly followed as I watched my face contort in the tears. Then, I noticed a vein start to bulge. It runs from my right eye brow to the bridge of my nose. More laughter as I hear my ego tell me to stop all of the emoting because bulging veins on a woman's face are unattractive!
The sadness keeps washing over me and I just return to crying.

Thank you, Gary.
I love you.

Okay, that's the last time...

Photo - Gary with his moutain lion, Tia.
This was taken long before I met Gary, but I love the love in this photo.


  1. my bruvver's life-partner flew away a few days ago after fighting brain cancer for six months. it was so unfair and so unkind. your writing pulls all of that into one place - and your self-deprecation - well sadness isn't pretty and no one should care but we do . . . . so cry. you might not lok perfect but the crying's fair isn't it. celebrate the goodness that was brought into this world by gary and especially all the goodness that was clearly left behind. have a peaceful evening. steven

  2. After every good cry (even with the bulging vein) I am left with a peace I have never felt before. It is in those moments I can celebrate! It is a mystery. It is heartbreaking, but it is beautiful, too.