My son and I went on a mini cross-country trip to Colorado last month. I wanted to tell you all about it, but I couldn’t find my words or motivation to write. So I’ll share a tiny bit about our trip, and then tell you why I’ve been quiet.
Our trip began on Oct. 2nd in Minneapolis where Jake ran the Twin Cities Marathon and I the 10 Miler. Then we made our way to Denver via Rapid City, Mount Rushmore, Custer, Cheyenne, Fort Collins, Estes Park, Boulder and the beautiful Rockies. We drove a lot, saw beautiful landscapes, ate good food, talked and talked, and saw cool wildlife everywhere including a bugling bull elk and his harem.
That’s all I got, but there’s so much more. The time with my 23 year old son nourished my soul and lightened my heart, then he dropped me off at the Denver airport on Oct. 11th, and continued westward on his own in his hand-me-down mini van and home on the road.
Two days later, my father went to the ER doubled over in pain and was diagnosed with “extensive stage IV cancer.” Colon, liver, lungs, prostate, bladder, stomach — and who knows what else. He declined treatment, and went home with pain medication. That was four weeks ago, and I can talk about it now.
My father is dying. My father will die soon. It helps to say this out loud.
He’s okay right now, says he doesn’t need help yet, and promises to let us know when he does.
I’ve been laying low and processing and planning. Okay, I’ve been hiding. I’ve also been eating jalapeno potato chips and ice cream, and have a new personal record of 6 days without a shower. I’m bitchy, have no patience, and turned all my lights off on Halloween and ate candy in the basement while watching “When Harry Met Sally.” (Harry’s right by the way, men and women can’t be friends.)
The day I got the news about my dad, I invited a friend to play “Words With Friends” and we’ve been playing ever since. I don’t know how many games we’re up to, but I’m madly addicted — or distracted, depending on how you look at it, and if my friend currently doesn’t play the spot I have my eye on, I can play “HEAVEN” for 45 points. My friend lost his mom to cancer two years ago, and his scrabble abilities are near genius level.
I’ve also been crying which is well and good and such a relief.
I cry in my car, out on walks, and in the shower (that time I took one). I cried once in the grocery store, at an art gallery, and at church when I shared during “Joys & Concerns” — what was I thinking? I cry every time I hear “Dust In The Wind” by Kansas, which seems to be playing a lot lately. Have you ever really listened to the words in that song?? Sheesh! Were they Buddhist monks in a previous life?
Crying is sneaky. Which is why I stay home.
The thing is, I’m not just crying for my father. I am grieving the loss of an era. I’m grieving for my parents, my childhood, and even my childhood home. I’m grieving for the innocence of playing outside, being happy when my dad came home from work, and for the way my mother called her three children in to supper — “Mar-i-lyn . . . Jo-a-anne . . . Jo-ohn . . . .”
Crying when you’re sad is really an expression of love isn’t it?
It was difficult to lose my mom in July after her long battle with Alzheimer’s. But the thought of losing my dad — losing both my parents, and then eventually my childhood home feels so much bigger and final, and life changing.
The truth is, I’m grieving my own mortality, along with the joy and sadness that make up this beautiful and tragic life in equal measure.
You may or may not have been wondering where I’ve been lately, but now you know.
I’ve been playing Scrabble.