Club W - Part II

I cannot tell you or express you all out there how many times I have thought I was done with this post and then hovered over the publish button only to hit cancel and wonder if I should or shouldn't post this post. Why the internal struggle over something so simple as words on paper (or screen in this case)? Well, because it's not just about me and yet it lets people peek into my head durning a time that I tried with the best of all intentions to let people know I was ok with everything that had happened with Christopher... so I guess I should start at the beginning.

Back in December I wrote a post entitled, "Club W" - it was about me getting news of a child's dad that had passed away from cancer and my own internal struggle over what was right and easy. Should I reach out to this woman and let her know that she's not alone. Recently, Ethan was invited to a birthday party; which isn't strange, we get allot of those (Ethan has allot of friends at pre-school). I must have stared at the invite for two weeks trying to figure out where I had seen this child's name before, but each time I thought about it it eluded me. For the life of me I could not put my finger on why this child's name seem so important; in the end, I ended up brushing it off and telling my self that I had made the whole thing up in my head.

Then came the day of the party. I was nervous. It was odd. I've sorta become a pro at going to birthday parties and not knowing anyone there; so what made this day different? I had no clue and at one point I think I chalked it up to the weather change and the random snow on the ground (I know, really random, but it made me feel better.). So Ethan and I pressed on to party. We showed up and instantly Ethan saw his friend (the birthday boy) and they greeted each other. The child's mom looked at Ethan and I and sorta exclaimed, but not loudly, "Oh this is Ethan". Mentally I raised an eyebrow and thought this might have been a clue to what I couldn't put my finger on - but I brushed it off as "this is Ethan, your friend you always talk about".

It wasn't until the kids were lined up ready to get the party started (if you will) that the birthday boy's mum came up to me. "I'm so glad you all could come. I was hoping you would; I really wanted to meet you. I was very nice of you to reach out to me..."

B-I-N-G-O! It hit me. I was standing face-to-face with the woman from my post. I got a lump in my throat. For one of the first times in my life I wasn't sure what to say and the words that would normally flow so easily from my lips had no voice to go with them. I mentally tried to count the months from when she lost her husband and then mentally try and put my self back in that place and remember what it was that I was going through at that time so I could try and be a better friend for her to talk to.

I thought about Ethan's first party after Christopher passed away. I remembered how even with all the help from friends and family, I was sorta in a daze. Looking at what all Christopher was missing. How Christopher would love to be there celebrating such a wonderful milestone in his child's life and yet, Ethan's party was more a milestone for me as well. It was his first birthday where I didn't have my love there by my side to share in something that I should completely be happy about. It was gut wrenching to feel two very drama different emotions that spanned a spectrum wider than any canyon I've seen and all at the same time. To feel as though if you stood still too long you might be engulfed by your own emotions and not be able to even move forward. I asked my self almost by the second; "Umm, ok, I think I can do this, what do I do next, cut the cake, play with the kids, are there enough hot dogs, do the kids need to come out of the sun for some juice, are people happy, does someone seemed left out of a conversation, does everyone a drink...." In a word I was spastic; I'll admit it.

So while I stood there, watching Ethan playing, I thought about his party almost a year ago. I thought about where I was then and where I am now. I looked at this other Mum, where she is now and where in her eyes I think she might want to be. I can't say that all the things I felt on Ethan's birthday were the same feelings that she felt this day - she never shared that with me; but in a way I think we gravitated to each other. Maybe because we are both on a level that not many people can or will experience -or- we knew what each felt and that there was a kindred of spirits so to speak in each of us. I'm not sure.

When it was time to leave I left this woman with my card and this blog address. I know that she might not be ready to be social or even talk about things yet, but by giving her this blog she can get to know me on her terms when she is ready. Do I hope she contacts me? Yes. Yes I do. If for nothing less for Ethan to have a chance to see his friend outside of school. But I would like to be there to tell her that what she feels doesn't make her alone in this world. That while it doesn't seem like it gets easier, she might wake up one day and have a day where things, life, whatever-the-case-may-be, wasn't as hard as the month before. To tell her I get what she says and have her know that in her heart she knows it too.

Half-Way There?

Have you ever had one of those "where did that come from" moments in your mind? You know the kind, the ones that pop into your head and twist and turn in your mind until you say them aloud or do whatever it is that has come floating to the surface? That's sorta what happened about a month ago and God, the Universe, Karma (what ever you believe in) has left me little hints and clues that I don't know if I can ignore. Got your attention yet? Well let me explain.

About month ago I heard a song, not sure where I heard it, but there was a verse that stuck with me. "Maybe I will never be who I was before, Maybe I don't know her anymore. Maybe who I am today, Ain't so far from yesterday." I've hummed this to myself over and over - I even wrote it in my little book that I carry around with me. This is a powerful statement and one that almost explains this feeling that I have carried around with me for a few months.

I have often times sat in my living room after Ethan went to bed and gazed upon the photos above my fireplace. There are three photos - the first a black and white family photo of when Ethan was one (Christopher was actually hooked up to his first chemo treatment this day), the second one is a another black and white family portrait taken just four months before Christopher pasted away, the third photo is a color photo of Ethan and I sitting under a awning that has been destroyed and yet we are holding on to each other, the last thing on wall that hangs with all of that - a star. It represents the journey that we have gone through and the star is the hope that I hold in my heart for Ethan and I. My artist testament to this song in a way. Looking up at those photos and remembering who I was, how I used to be; everything in my life and faith was tested. Did I pass this preverbal test? I don't know and to be honest I don't care. Because I used to feel that life was all about how we make it through the bumps and how we weathering the storms, rather than potholes and rain - so maybe I'm not that far from who I was yesterday...

Don't get me wrong; nothing much has changed me on the inside. On the inside I am still the "d" that everyone knows and loves, but I have changed. I've been pushed to limits that I never thought possible and done things on my own that I never thought I could. I have reached down inside and found all the pieces that made up me and just realized that some of these pieces were nice, but not needed - there are some things (pieces) in life that are just a little more important now.

It was one of these nights gazing upon my photos that I remembered something that happened to me shortly before I got the phone call that changed everything. I was sitting in traffic thinking and talking to God. I told God I was done - I had put faith in him and needed a sign - a sign that everything was going to be ok, that I was going to make it through this battle with cancer. I asked that he give him something, anything, I just needed something because I thought I was on the verge of breaking and completely melting down. It was then that the light turned green and I turned right. That is also when the radio skipped and switched to a new station. The song playing was Bon Jovi's "Living on a Prayer" and the line of the song that the radio fell on was the verse that says, "living on a prayer, we're half way there". I grinned. Thanked God for the sign, even went and told Ethan's God mother about the events that had happened that morning. Needless to say - I have questioned that sign since I found out Christopher was going to die. However, looking at those photos one night I remembered that morning on my way to work. I started to doing some mental math and being an artist and not an accountant - I pulled out my calendar and a pencil and started counting. (get ready for some goose bumps when I tell you this) I discovered that night that from the day Christopher went into the hospital to the day he past away (the days of his battle with cancer) are the same number of days from the day he passed away till his birthday this year. It gave me chills and explained my sign - sorta. I was half way though a process when I would be ok. I won't lie the dates in Christopher's life have been very strange - Oct 18th (the day of his funeral) his mom's birthday. April 18th (his birthday) is exactly six months from when he was buried. So to say that I have to ignore this strange number of days is the least from my mind. It's just the opposite. Was this another little hint that God, the Universe afforded me to have? I don't know. Maybe. That's the way these thing work - it's completely left for the individual to take from with what they want or need.

Shortly after this, a week or so later, my dad came for a visit. And. Well. Let's just say I had a very interesting conversation with him. One that I never thought I would have with him. So strange that I consulted with friends on their thoughts on the advice/topic at hand. And when they all agreed with my father, I turned to the paid help. My honest thought was - I pay my therapist to agree with me - right? WRONG. My therapist agreed with my father and for all the same reasons my Dad has his thoughts and views on the topic. What is this magical little topic you might ask? Well, I'm not 100% comfortable sharing it at this moment. Those of you who I consulted - know. And that's how I'm keeping it for now. Was this advice given to me by my dad, good, bad, neutral? It was advice. Advice that I see the points made and where everyone is coming from. And possibly another sign that God, the Universe, (again whatever you believe in) is trying to tell me. As my therapist would tell me - things are coming together in you mind and the world is just helping you along...

Am I going to take this suggestion, advice, fatherly-guidance - I don't know. What I do know is I'm going to take these next few days till Christopher's birthday and use it for more reflection upon where I came from with this battle with Christopher's cancer, the loving and wonderful relationship we had, my own thoughts and beliefs and how that makes me - well me. I'm almost half-way to a point in my life where I've spent more time without Christopher by my side, than I spend by Christopher's side fighting cancer. I'm reaching a new phase, sorta like the moon. This will be my time of feeling full about the life God gave me and trying to put those phases of the dark side of the moon behind me, but yet not forgotten. Just enough behind to look back when i need it, but not dwindle there. "I'm half-way there, living on my prayers."