I’m not wanting to write about this because it’s very very sad. Heartbreaking, really. I think it’s why I haven’t been good about blogging the past few days. This topic is sitting on top of everything else. That’s death for you. It is achingly unpleasant. Especially long drawn out death. In my family, two people we love are pretty much waiting to die. Wish I had a good euphemism for that.
Hal’s baby sister, Megan, 40, has been battling – and I do mean battling – breast cancer for over 8 years now. Hal wrote about Megan and the creep so beautifully after our visit with her and Hal’s family over Christmas. She has three kids, Mariah 14, Eli 12 and Noah 9. And her dear husband, Ed. Megan told me that when they started cancer treatment lo these many years ago, there were 19 couples. Ed is the only husband man enough to go the distance. He’s still got a ways to go, certainly, but no sign of an exit strategy. This is his life. God bless him.
Megan’s had every treatment known to man except any by Don Candido, the Costa Rican herbal medicine man who I just heard about. If Megan makes it thru this hospital visit, I will bring her here to see him. We got a phone call two days ago and were told if we want to see Megan alive again, we should get to Utah asap.
Hal’s mom, Joanie, and sister, Molly, are going. My heart breaks for Joanie and for Megan’s kids. My single biggest fear is dying before my kids are old enough to survive without me. Like that will ever happen. (Them getting old enough to survive without me, I mean. Dying is inevitable. So far.)
We are not going. Hal’s not sure Megan wants us all hanging around her bed watching her die, wasted away and unable to stop throwing up. I know I wouldn’t want it. If this is truly It, we will remember her laughing and joking at the Disney World condo. Hard to believe that "unsinkable" energy could vanish from this earth.
I feel the same about Granny Boo. Although I truly think her energy has moved on to a better place. Is moving on, I guess. She is still with us, physically. She sleeps all the time, and has stopped eating. When a woman in my family stops eating, it’s serious. I’m not kidding. She is still lucid. Her friend of many years, Tom Makepeace, was at her bedside the other day. He was there all day and they never said a word to each other, although he would chat occasionally. When he got up to leave, he leaned in close and said, "Bye, Granny Boo. I love you." She opened her eyes and said plain as day, "Bye bye, Tom." Then closed her eyes again.
I remember Granny Boo as bigger than life. I swear she’d walk into a
room and the energy would go up a couple of notches. Bristling. I love that about
her. I always will.
My mom is with her today. One of Mom’s best friends, Gayle, drove up to Lexington from Atlanta, picked her up and drove her to Washington, D.C. so she could spend a couple of days with Granny Boo. What a loving and generous thing to do. You don’t find friends like Gayle every day. I haven’t talked to mom, but I will tonight or tomorrow morning. I’ll keep you posted.
It’s the oddest thing: two people dying. One you sorta wish God would move this along, release her for goodness sake. And the other you wish God would magically heal, let her live forever. She’s paid her dues. Sorry – I know I’m not supposed to wish anything. But I do. It’s driven by my need not to feel this lump. There is nothing to do but feel each painful little breath, to think of them pretty much all the time, send love and prayers.
I know this: having to watch someone you love fade away has got to be right up there in the list of life’s little mysteries. Forever unsolved until you actually walk the walk. Do keep sending the white light. It is definitely being put to good use. Love, S.