Bittersweet


100_9077I often wondered exactly what went through Vic’s mind in the final months of her life when she felt death sneaking up on her.  I know she was scared and lonely; she was heartbroken knowing that her boys would grow up without her….I am not stupid.  I know that Vic did not share all her fears and thoughts with me.  She was trying to protect me.

Today I read a bittersweet post.  I wept when I read the words.  It was as if I heard Vic’s voice…felt her fear…

Bittersweet
June 4, 2013 by sugarmagzz        | 6 Comments
 
It happens from time to time, I get a glimpse of my “old” life and for a fleeting second forget that I am dying of cancer. These moments are simultaneously wonderful and devastating. I might be out with a friend for lunch, pumping gas into my car, shopping for Owen, or doing dishes at my kitchen sink. It’s always random and for that brief moment I feel free, as though I’m flying and nothing is tethering me down. I feel like I did before, able to live my life without a shadow cast overhead. It doesn’t last very long because reality always comes crashing down, dragging me with it in its vice-like grip. In this moment of clarity — when it all comes rushing back to me — I can’t breathe. I’m ten again and I’ve fallen flat on my back off the trampoline — immobile, breathless, terrified.  This time there is no ground to break my fall, and so I’m left to kick and scream in mid-air with no one to hear me, no one to catch me. Alone and falling, falling so fast — past the memories that were supposed to one day be mine. I reach out to touch them and slide my fingers over their sparkling surface…
 
The look on Owen’s face when he sees Disney World for the first time.
 
The birth of our second child, to see again Andrew’s incredible capacity for the patience and self-sacrifice of fatherhood.
 
Owen’s high school and college graduation ceremonies, his wedding.
Ashlei’s wedding, the birth of her children, becoming an Aunt.
 
Retirement — relaxing on the dock looking out over the lake with him, my partner in life…reminiscing about the early days and arguing over chores, still.
 
Grandchildren.
I will not see these momentous occasions, they will occur without my physical presence.
 
I hope that there is more to this life, and that I can be there in some way, spirit or otherwise. I hope that my loved ones will always feel me near as they celebrate those unforgettable moments that life has to offer, but my sorrow at missing out on them is endless. I am so very grateful for the incredible moments I have been blessed to experience and I will hold them close until the end. When my time comes, I will take my last breath knowing that my time here was extraordinary, that during my brief existence I lived and loved as greatly as I could. I know there will be more wonderful memories to make before this happens, but everything for me is tinged with darkness — all of the good moments are bittersweet. Still I fight for them, even though they are broken and imperfect. They may not be the memories I thought they would be, but they will still be special.

Tonight I am doubting myself again.  I wonder – did I comfort my child enough?  Why was this precious child of mine condemned to a life of horrible pain and suffering?  She never truly lived!  Why did she die and bad people continue to live and prosper?  Why was she deprived of a future???  She was such a good person!!!!!

I want to hold her and protect her.  I want to tell her how much I love her.  That she is the best thing that ever happened to me.  That my life is empty without her.  That I understood her fears.  

I WANT MY CHILD BACK!!!

 

14 thoughts on “Bittersweet

  1. I don’t even know you, but from reading your blog I can say, “LOOK at what BEAUTIFUL mom you are!” But you couldn’t protect her; I couldn’t protect Philip. As mothers, we feel that’s our job, even when it can’t be. I’m so sad for you, for me, for all of us. But you are an inspiration.

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  2. so much sadness, and yet there is still some joy in the mix. as hard as it is to see your life becoming smaller it is the memories that make us feel whole again, if even for a moment. each person has their own experience of preparing to leave. vic knew her boys were going to be loved and cared for, she knew that you would make sure she is remembered. she knew how wonderful her life was and that is a comfort. not to say she wasn’t sad, lonely or even scared. you are right that she wanted to protect you, i find myself doing that. i think about after i am gone and don’t want to leave any more burden than i need to.

    sending love and hugs

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    1. If I could turn back the clock and ask Vic one thing it would be to not protect me…I am filled with guilt because she did not trust me with her emotions… Oh my dear friend I wish I could protect you from what you are going through. Lots of love!

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  3. Tersia, You never had time to think or deal with emotions – you were the ultimate caregiver. You sacrificed your own feelings in order to do everything in your power for Vic. Now that Vicky is gone, your life has come to a halt and you can relive all of the trauma. Second guessing is human, but honestly – you were an excellent mother and best friend to Vic. Instead, I wish for you to see all the beautiful and wonderful things you have done and continue to do. Looking at your frailities really isn’t helpful, when you consider how Vicky has touched and reached many people because of your writing. Keep writing and expressing all of your feelings. They were bottled up for so long and releasing them is healing. You will feel better someday – hold onto your hope (which I know you are doing!). With much love, Judy

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