Six

Six months since Maura died. 

Today. 

I had decided last week that I did not want us to be alone today, so I invited people over to the house via facebook. More showed up than I expected, especially given the other events scheduled at the same time. Others wrote cards or sent notes or emailed. The evening went well. We just talked and ate. The conversation naturally gravitated toward Maura for awhile. We were able to share our Dynamo story. 

     And there was more sadness this week, especially for Maura's friends: another May graduate of the SHSU School of Music died this week in a car crash. She had come to Maura's funeral.She had just started a career as a music teacher. Many of Maura's friends were at her wake tonight.

   And another death earlier today--gifted writer named Kevin Foley died from sarcoma tonight. He has blogged about his life, his cancer, his family, world politics, and just about everything for a couple of years. You can read Card Blue for yourself. I feel as though I have lost a friend, although I never met him.

     I love Maura, and I miss her very much,

Bounce

     I'm having a harder time pulling it together at work. Last Monday, someone tried to tell me of a mistake I had made, and I looked at her blankly because i just wasn't understanding what she was trying to tell me. I felt...vacant. And stupid.
     I'm having a harder time pulling it together other places,too. On Friday, we went to a pub downtown to watch the Dynamo vs. L.A. Galaxy playoff match in Los Angeles. It was crowded. I felt uncomfortable, out of my element. Oh, no. I realized that this was a place Maura had described to me, a place she and Katie had been to. Maura loved having fun. Who doesn't? But Maura was so good at it. She could brighten everyone's day and make us all have fun. Sob, sob. Except now. I really just wanted to go home.
     Things got a bit better after the game started. But it was a weird game. The ref made some bad calls. The lights went out in the stadium in Carson, CA and the game was stopped twice for a total of 30 or 40 minutes.
     At half-time, the Dynamo representatives that were at the pub announced the winners of the silent auction items, proceeds of which were going to the Dynamo Charities. Then he announced a Live Auction for a Dynamo Party Pack, "which includes, among other things, two Dynamo players that come to your event to sign autographs, and a Dynamo Moon Bounce." What? What did he say? A moon bounce? A Dynamo moon bounce? "And we will start the bidding at $100." And I thought of the blog I wrote just a day or two before Maura went into the hospital for the last time, when we were planning her graduation party, and I announced that we would have a moon bounce, at Maura's request. Maura really wanted a party with a moon bounce. She never got it. Instead, the tumors grew, her kidneys failed, and she died. 

     Joel, I said, let's bid on the Dynamo Party Pack. "Who will start the bidding at $100? Yes, the woman with the Dynamo scarf." And I realized I was standing up, with my hand held high, wearing my Dynamo scarf,  "Who will bid $150?" And Joel said, What are we bidding on? It's a Dynamo Party Pack, I replied, and the players come to the party and there will be a Dynamo moon bounce. A what? You know, the jumpy jumpy thing that Maura wanted for her graduation party. "Who will bid $150? 150? Yes, I've got $150. who will give me $200 to have two Dynamo players come to your event...?" One more time, Nikki and Danielle were both prodding me. No, it's too expensive. And Joel, still confused, What are we getting? It's for Maura, I said. A party for Maura. Can we go again? Joel raised his hand. "Yes, $200. Who will give me $275?" Oh my gosh.  A minute later, they came to our side, took our credit card, got our information, and, for $200, we became the proud owners of a Dynamo Party Pack, which includes, among other things, two Dynamo players that come to our event to sign autographs, and a Dynamo moon bounce! 

     I cried. Duh.

     So now we are working on a plan. We've decided that we will use the Dynamo Party Pack in a fundraiser for one or both of Maura's funds---Sarcoma Research at M.D. Anderson and/or the music scholarship endowment fund in her name at SHSU. Kind of exciting!

Ubi Caritas...

This video is from Maura's memorial service. I hadn't watched it in a long while and was again impressed with the sheer number of friends, many of them graduated and living out of state, who came to sing for her. They rehearsed for less than an hour together. The pastor commented that it was the best music ever sung in the church. Such a beautiful piece of music. Maura selected it herself.

When David Heard by Eric Whitacre Part 1

I remember hearing Maura's chorale sing this piece a couple of years ago. At the time, I was very moved, especially with Matt's countertenor solo (as good as the soloist on this video is, Matt's performance was brilliant, haunting, sorrowful, memorable). I wish I had the SHSU version to put up here instead. David's cries, sobs, wails, and moans were so artfully made into music, and I remember thinking--and feeling--how incredibly painful losing a child would be. Many times after Maura became ill, I would hear Matt's solo in my head, "O, Absalom"

Requiem

I'm listening to Rutter's Requiem on the radio right now. So many memories of Maura and this hauntingly beautiful piece of music.

Pink

It's breast cancer awareness month and guess what I did. I became a living, walking poster.

Last week we attended the Dynamo game against L.A. Galaxy and I put sunscreen all over my arms and shoulders and face. Note to self: testing a new sunscreen on the arm for an allergic reaction is not the same as testing it on the face. I broke out in a horrible red rash that I had to explain away to my students he next day. But the rash disappeared within 48 hours.
What did not disappear was the sunburn on my chest and neck where I had neglected to apply any sunscreen at all. Even after one week, I have a painful sunburn in the shape of the pink cancer awareness ribbon around my neck and on my chest. I kid you not. It will peel and fade to a light shade of breast-cancer-awareness-pink that will last for months.
Dear Nancy Brinker, have I gone too far for The Cause?

No, I will not post a picture. That's just gross.

WaterWorks

I cannot understand how I sometimes have absolutely no control over my emotions and other times, I'm the pillar of strength and downright stoic. Today should have been easy. It was a gift I couldn't take advantage of--a lovely inservice day. My chief pleasure on such a day is in the gathering of colleagues from several campuses, giving me a chance to see work friends I don't see on a daily basis. The morning passed without incident. I began to falter in the afternoon after several people came over to talk to me. One of my co-workers dubbed me Miss Popular; I can't help it if people love me :) I hadn't seen many of these colleagues since before Maura became ill. Some didn't know about Maura, and, of course, the subject of my absence came up, and I told them, and well...Others came to offer their condolences. That was a good thing--no awkward silences. I'm glad they did not ignore me. And I'm glad they did not probe or try to say anything else. Lots of I'm sorries and lots of hugs. Just right! But all those expressions of love and concern and friendship drain my energy and bring my sorrow to the surface. When the speaker began, I was already in a fragile state. Jonathan Sprinkles is an excellent motivational speaker for college students, coming from a background similar to many students on our campus, so I had looked forward to hearing him speak. Unfortunately for me, he asked us to write down recent challenges in our lives (I didn't) and how we had solved them. (Uh-oh. Here it comes.) My chin quivered; my eyes welled up; and I'm sitting at a table with all my immediate co-workers. Darn. Double darn. Then Jonathan proceeded to tell us that most of our greatest challenges are 1) temporary, and 2) never turn out as bad as we think. I never heard what number 3 and 4 were. Oh, thank you, God, that I was near a door! A friend followed me to make sure I was okay. Then she retrieved my belongings from the conference room, and I headed for home. Only I didn't go home. Instead I came back to work for awhile, needing to get my mind busy. Well, that didn't work either. I got some work done, but here I sit, unable to concentrate, using my work computer for personal blogging. I think they can fire me for this. If you are reading this, and you have the ability to fire me or to get me fired, please don't. It's 6:50 on a Friday evening, and I'm a wreck.

Addendum, 7:30 Saturday morning: I'm better now. Still, I go back to my original question: Why do I have no control over my emotions? So many times I can talk about Maura, or I can listen to people making insensitive remarks, or I can read or listen to self-help gurus. No tears. I'm fine. I've got this grief thing under control. And at other times...
Emotional triggers? Nothing and everything.

Fact or Fiction

Theatre is so much better than a self-help book for processing grief. For me.
This weekend I saw the play Rent for the second time in several years. The first time, I thought it was a nice show. This time it was a memorable and moving experience. Every theme of the play flew past me unnoticed save one: the responsibility of living well. It is not a show about gay people or AIDS, even though it is. It is about life, about choosing to spend our time on what matters.
I did not expect the floodgates to open during this show, but , hello, everything reminded me of Maura. One of the main characters, aptly named Angel, was Maura: talented, kind, loving, the peacemaker. After one year, Angel dies, leaving his friends to figure out what Angel's life and death taught them of the importance of life, love, and relationships (and, I add, God).
Maura's last 525,600 minutes were, as the song suggests, measured in love. I was taken by surprise to see Maura's high school friend, Jennifer Ross, soulfully sing the solo in Seasons of Love. I felt like I was in church, and someone please pass me the Kleenex. Really. I think the people behind me should have asked for their money back because I was probably very distracting. As Jennifer finished, I rose to my feet, aas did so many others, and the applause reverberated throughout the theatre.
After the show I had to compliment her--and she confided that the director had scolded her for singing the song without passion. So she searched her heart and started over, singing to Maura and for Maura and about Maura. And she got it. And I got it. And the whole audience got it. And it was for Maura. I'm so glad I got to be a part of that.
Jennifer said that Maura taught her how to sing Gospel music. Isn't that funny? The little blond chick teaching the African-American diva how to sing? I think Jennifer exaggerated, but she insisted that she had a very small voice before Maura drew her voice out of its shell.

Theatre is so much better than a self-help book for processing grief. So are novels.
I don't know why. I'm not opposed to inspirational books that speak to grief and healing. I'm reading four of them right now, all good, all helpful; all gifts from friends who were helped themselves by one or another of these books. But I find that it is within fiction that I find a character or two that I can identify with, and I can cry or see things differently or find comfort. Biographies that are written by excellent storytellers (certain books of the Bible being a terrific example of the latter) satisfy that same need.
Here is an excerpt from The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by David Wroblewski. I have read this paragraph--the whole chapter--- at least a dozen times over the course of reading the book this month. Simple, but accurate:

There followed, for each of them, good days and bad, and often Edgar's best moments coincided with his mother's worst. She could be cheerful and determinedly energetic for days on end and then one morning he would walk downstairs and find her hunched at the kitchen table, haggard and red-eyed. Once lapsed, nothing could deliver her. It worked the same with him. Just when normal life felt almost possible--when the world held some kind of order, meaning, and even loveliness(the prismatic spray of light through an icicle; the stillness of a sunrise), some small thing would go awry and the veil of optimism was torn away, the barren world revealed. They learned, somehow, to wait those times out. There was no cure, no answer, no reparation.

I love that line: They learned, somehow, to wait those times out. Yes, that is what it is like.
I think of the Biblical stories of Hannah, Ruth, Mary and Martha (the sisters of Lazarus), Mary (mother of Jesus)--women who prayed and believed and mourned and did not, even under extreme pressure, lose faith.

Yes, right now, stories of all genres help me grieve.

Coincidence

I have received several emails and texts from people I don't regularly hear from, asking how I am, telling me they're thinking of me...much more than normal. Lots of people asking, "How aaarrrre you?" with those eyebrows arched in knowing concern. This can mean only one thing: I haven't blogged in over a week, and people get worried I'm going to fall into a funk.  So, I logged on tonight to let everyone know I'm okay, we're okay, everything is okay; I just haven't had anything to say. And, lo and behold, Matt also just blogged from Korea b/c people let him know they were worried about him. Hmm...I think our mutual friends need to get out more. 

It is good to have friends and family who care.

Fame

edited on 10/06/09 (I substituted faith for fame)

....FAITH
I'm gonna live forever
I'm gonna learn how to fly
High

...FAITH
I'm gonna make it to heaven
Light up the sky like a flame
...FAITH

REMEMBER
REMEMBER
REMEMBER

Sue reminded me of these lyrics. I think for Maura I should substitute another word instead of "Fame." But I can't seem to put my finger on the right word that goes with both Maura and the song.

Amanda, Part 2

Please pray for Amanda!
If you do not know Amanda, please take a moment to read here what I wrote in May about this wonderful young woman.

Update :
Still cancer free.

And now, pregnant. :)

(She just started a blog because Matt said she had to since he was in Korea and couldn't be here. You can follow her story at And At The End I Get A Baby.

 

Heaven

Here's the truth: Right now, the number one reason I want to go to Heaven is not to see Jesus or to share in God's everlasting happiness. I don't get excited about spending eternity singing praises of the Most High. I don't think about Heaven as a place where there will be no more evil or sorrow or pain. In my head I know it's all true, but I don't care. Not now. Now, the only thing that thrills me about Heaven is Maura. I'll get to see Maura again. And I know that God understands how I feel, and I can't imagine that I will ever feel differently. But I can wait. And so can God.
Steven Curtis Chapman suffered the tragic loss of his daughter last year, shortly after Maura got sick. At that time, I had to turn off the radio because it was too painful and frightening to listen to all the condolences pouring in to the Christian radio station that I listen to.
The video below is a song he wrote for his little girl that expresses similar feelings to mine. In a subsequent YouTube video, he talks about how the song came about.

Got Regret?

This week I have heard from many people who are grieving--either for Maura or for someone else--and regret reverberates throughout their stories.  I am blessed in that I have little to regret, although my mind keeps searching for ever more failures or omissions when I play the destructive "what if?" game or it's close relative, the "if I had only" game. What if I had paid more attention when Maura complained of cramps? If only she hadn't been misdiagnosed. If I had only figured out how to get to M.D. Anderson sooner.  What if she had not had surgery before chemo? What if we had, early on, rid ourselves of every toxic chemical in our house? Switched to a wholly vegan, chemical-and-hormone-free diet? Chosen a less polluted city to live in? If I had only known...everything I know now. Would it have helped? Would it have saved her life? Would it have given her--us--another year?

Despite that macabre self-flagellation, I have  little regret for the way I lived this last year with Maura, and that is a gift I owe to my mother. 

Joel once told me that, after my mom died, twelve years ago, he felt as if he didn't have a wife for two years.  That's because for two years after she died, I beat myself up for not having been a better daughter.  I hadn't visited her enough. I should have spent more time with her. I let my busy life get in the way of spending time with someone I dearly loved. I never thought of the day she would no longer be there. I had taken her for granted. I grieved,yes. But, even more painful, I regretted every moment I had wasted not being with her. Grief and remorse. I think that we pair those two emotions together so many times that we hardly recognize the difference. But I know the difference now. I learned a hard lesson with my mom, and I vowed not to repeat my mistake. I vaguely remember it as a a kind of potato-wielding-Scarlett-O'Hara-fist-shaking promise to myself. More than anything else, that is what fueled my insistence that I take care of my dad when his Alzheimer's grew worse.  I never ever ever wanted to feel the way I felt after my mom died, and I did not want to take any time with my dad for granted.  I worked at not taking anyone for granted...not always successfully, but I tried...I still try. That is how I absolved myself of the guilt. When my father died, the grief was more acute because he had lived with us for a couple of years, but the regret was nil except for a few rounds of the "what if?" game--I don' think there is any way to escape that. 

And with Maura? I worked part-time for ten months and took a leave of absence starting in February. At some level, I always knew that she would die, and I did not want to waste any time. I regret lots of little things, but none of the big things. I got those right. Maybe. The grief...the pure, guilt-free grief over Maura's death is agonizing enough. Adding remorse on top of it would be unbearable.

My recipe for minimizing regrets: Declare it "Opposite Day." Whatever you neglected to do, do. Whatever you did wrong, do right. If you refused to give blood because you are afraid of needles, give blood now. Better yet, go the extra mile and give platelets. If you didn't come home sooner to be with your dying friend, make sure you spend more time with your ailing parent. If you took a vacation instead of spending time with your sick loved one, spend an upcoming vacation helping others. If you regret not having shaved your head in solidarity with the one who had cancer, go buy a few wigs for current cancer patients. Make meaningful restitution. "Shower the people you love with love..." and don't take anyone for granted. Ugh-easier said than done. It is hard not to take people for granted. I still do it all the time, even when I try not to. 

Anyway, thanks, Mom, for teaching me a valuable lesson, even after you were gone. I wish I had not had to go through such pain to learn it. 

Pity

Four months yesterday, marked by a visit from two of Maura's best friends. I truly thank them for spending time with me. They are a connection to Maura that I treasure. Kara and I shopped and cooked a vegetarian feast. Before she came I was in a puddle of tears, and I started right up again the second she and Katie left.
Aaagghh! This has been a particularly weepy week. I miss her so much.
I think I am becoming pitiable. I didn't want that. Maybe it's inevitable.

Generosity

I am overwhelmed with gratitude and amazement. Once again I must refer you to Airika and Gerald Pope Photography's blog at geraldpope.blogspot.com . They have posted more pictures of Lydia and Joao's wedding and a slide show of pictures. Not only are the pictures the most beautiful I have ever seen, but the Popes have stated on their blog that all proceeds from the sales of the prints will be donated to M.D. Anderson for sarcoma research! Not only did they provide their extensive services for the just the price of the plane tickets, but now they won't even profit from the sale of their art. What a generous couple.

Ashes and Mount Fuji, Japan

Katie went to visit Leah in Japan. She took a little bit of Maura with her and released her ashes on Mount Fuji--a BFF once again fulfilling Maura's dream of traveling the world. Thank you, girls. Special thanks to Chelsea once again for a great film.

Happy

Wonderful news about two women who have been battling sarcoma: Elsa's tumor is shrinking with a trial drug. And, after three years, Michelle is cancer -free. Time to do the happy dance! 

Wedding Photos

Today, September 10, was the day that Lydia and Joao were originally going to get married. Photographers Airika and Gerald Pope have blogged about and posted more photos of Joao and Lydia's wedding. Click on the title of this post for a direct link to their blog. Or go to geraldpope.blogspot.com One post prior to today's they posted a few pictures from the rehearsal dinner. Amazing, right?
And my brother's already beautiful backyard was turned into the most incredible fairy woodland, thanks to the talented Shawna Yamamoto, a florist/event designer. Wow. Wow! The splashes of yellow, especially the floating candles, were Shawna's way of including Maura in the ceremony.

Pavlov's Dog

I am so blessed to have a job that I love. Every day students come into my office scared, confused, clueless, upset. We talk. We plan. They leave wiser, happier, and smiling.
Positive reinforcement? You bet--for me! The interaction and parting smile are the same for me as the bell and food were to Pavlov's dog, but without the saliva.

Naked

I finally shed the three cancer bracelets that I've been wearing for a very long time.
The co-worker whose 19-year-old son is fighting Ewing's Sarcoma came to visit me. I gave her the yellow LiveStrong bracelet along with the story--my sister's acquaintance in Juneau asked my sister to tell Maura that when Maura ran out of her own strength, she could have some of hers, and then she slid the yellow band off her own arm and put it on my sister's; Maura wore it for months. I also gave her a Live Teal bracelet, and let her know that Maura's friends had had them made in a show of support (along with painting fingernails teal and making paper cranes). I showed her the framed picture of the Dynamo with Maura that hangs in my office (I know, I know, Kathy, I still haven't posted the picture.)
I was also wearing a second Live Teal bracelet. I don't remember how that started, but I couldn't bear to just take it off and set it aside. It seemed an assault on Maura's memory. But on Sunday, we received a surprise visit from a young friend we hadn't seen in about seven years. She came over as soon as she heard the news--the grapevine is long and winding. I met her when she was eighteen and on welfare and a little lost. I watched her grow into a confident, gracious woman. She's a little over thirty now, with two beautiful, smart kids, and the same iron will that makes her a survivor of a different sort than we talk about in the cancer community. She has also experienced recent losses and is learning to be a single mom again. When she asked for a Live Teal bracelet, I knew it was time to take off the one remaining band on my wrist.
Now, only Maura's silver charm bracelet graces my arm, and I feel bare. And my arms look old.