Today's Post Includes Part One and Part Two

PART ONE ~ THE REBUTTAL

While attempting to wash off the "mud" from yesterday's necessary BIG WALLOW, I am again working very hard to count the blessings in my life. Thank you to all who commented on my post, and also to the many who preferred to send personal emails. Hearing support from the outside world means so very much - always, and especially on the more difficult days. And to "Mary from Ohio" ~ please ring my doorbell some day. I'll take that enveloping hug from you anytime. Your "rambling" was beautiful. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for taking the time to write all those words. And when Erin does challenge me with that sprinkler, I feel confident that I will want to run through!

The second "comment" from a not-so "gentle reader" however, called for a refresher course in my lamaze training of long ago, as my breathing wanted to increase to hyperventilation pitch. Yesterday's blog comment of "OUCH" on my part was all I could muster at the time. I'll try to respond now in an eloquent manner to "Anonymous". I'm so sorry you neglected to mention your name when you signed off. Maybe next time you'll do so, and we can have a more personal conversation.

Perhaps the intention of your comment was a version of Tough Love, meant to help me snap out of my mood, since it was "sent with respect and admiration"? I must say, I was terribly confused by the contradictory way in which you wrote, and I can only assume from your words that you have not experienced cancer on an intimate level. Lucky you! My daughter died. In case you missed that, I will repeat - MY DAUGHTER DIED! and there are no words that can adequately detail what it was like to hold Erin's hand and watch that happen - to actually tell her it was OK to do so, and with God as my witness, in response to her wish for us to "Have Fun" vow to do so to the best of my ability each day, and now live with full intention of honoring that vow. And that act alone came at the end of so many things I witnessed over the three years of her illness that are unmentionable to anyone other than immediate family. Let's just say, a part of me died with her, and in very simple terms, I will never be the same again.

Through my blog, I share a portion of my experiences with the intention of working through some of my grief and also to give some insight to others about this insane world into which we were thrown. No, it is certainly NOT the life of my choice as you state, but I think I've done a pretty good job so far making the best of "the life I've been given". Remember, it hasn't even been five months since Erin passed away.

Due to those experiences, there are now periods in this aftermath, during which I am overcome with a pain that is indescribable. There are days when I cry - nearly the whole day. There are nights when I don't sleep much - last night was right up there! But I typically don't share that. And I don't stay "there". If you knew me well, and I don't know whether you do since you neglected to leave your name, you would know that since Erin died there has not been a day that I have stayed in bed all day. I have showered and dressed and functioned every single day since December 18th. I don't take pills and I don't drink more that the occasional glass of wine. I walk my dog a lot and I pray a lot and I talk to Erin a lot.

Have you REALLY read my blog? If you have, you should know that I try very hard to be happy and upbeat. Yes, I believe in moving forward and I believe in honoring Erin's memory by being positive. I do count my blessings and share so many of them through what I write. I always try to look at what I have as opposed to what I've lost. Last night after receiving your comment I looked over my posts, and yesterday's was the first one which was a brutally honest downer without a redirection to a positive outlook! I had a rare stream of consciousness flow to my fingers. Sorry, but it just came out! Believe it or not, this is part of what really happens when someone's child dies! To put it in elementary terms, it is very very sad and very very hard. I gave a brief up close and personal glimpse of the grieving process! I resent the condescending tone of "My dear" prior to your advice to count my blessings and be more like Erin in finding things for which to be thankful. Where the hell do you think Erin got some of her moxie?

OK, now I'm losing the eloquent manner in which I intended to respond, so I will not address this any longer. My hackles are up again and it's only 5:30 AM. I will close in saying that at times my writing may make one uncomfortable due to its dip into the bowels of the cancer venue. If the words make anyone uncomfortable, I apologize and advise you not to read my blog. If you choose to stay with me, keep your seatbelts fastened because sometimes the ride will be bumpy.

Thank you for allowing me to vent, and I invite any of you to comment.


PART TWO ~ SMALL, BUT MIGHTY

Yesterday I did a lot of reading, forced myself to exercise, then ate things that were not good for me including way too much pizza for dinner, took a long hot bath (the ONE good thing about it being cold!) listened to some music, wrote down many thoughts and cried ~ buckets. Once again, Keenan earned his keep.

And I stopped and smelled the flowers.

Have you ever taken the time to really look closely at and smell lily of the valley? If not, you should!



I have a little glass vase of intricately perfect, naturally healing aromatherapy here on my computer table, right by Erin's bear in the background who stoically sits in support, eying me closely as I compose my blogs. He is the silent type, but his mere presence speaks volumes.

This bouquet, aptly termed "small, but mighty" by the gracious friend who bestowed the handful upon me at the door on Monday, was one of the catalysts pushing me toward the turn from feeling DESERVEDLY pathetic to ~ I need to keep going, not because I should, but because I REALLY WANT TO.

This friend "gets it"! She has many good qualities, among them ~ a sense of humor, a love of chocolate and a wisdom borne of experience from having loved ones taken from her by cancer. We take weekly walks together, and our conversations run to many topics, but the one thing I truly love about spending time with her is that she is not afraid of the presence of the "elephant in the room". That presence can often be an UNDERSTANDABLY daunting one to some who are not as well-versed in cancer's habits and effects. Well, my beautiful little "elephant" will be with me forever.

When we walk and talk, the conversation can comfortably flow from ~ would you look at that person's house! to ~ I can't believe some idiot people won't pick their dog's poop up off the sidewalk! to ~ Erin was so self-conscious about her short hair when I thought it was gorgeous, but she knew it would fall out again so she continued to wear her wig and it made me so sad, to ~ what book are you reading now? We can complain, laugh, cry, marvel at something ludicrous and tear up again without missing a beat due to either of us squirming with discomfort.
And, ironically in some situations, I think I'm often the one who squirms more while trying to make others feel more at ease with me. It's all very complicated!

So, when my friend presented me with this little fistful of "small, but mighty" flowers, she didn't know the extent to which it would help. Oh, it did!

And it gave me a focal point for my unexpected lamaze practice!

By the way, I did inform her that my mom's wedding bouquet was all lily of the valley.


Coincidence? Small, but mighty indeed!