2015 has been a tricky year so far for my family. My father-in-law has been battling cancer for almost two years, and his journey with this insidious, ridiculous, fucking-fuck-fuck (excuse my fucking language) disease is soon coming to an end. He decided six weeks ago to stop treatment and begin hospice at home, and Chris has been in St. Louis ever since. He's working remotely while also being primary caregiver to his dad. And the girls and I are here in Oak Lawn, plugging along and missing Chris more than any words can possibly express.
There is so much I want to say about how this experience has been for Chris. So much that has surprised, moved, angered me. Rendered me helpless, speechless. But ultimately, that isn't my story to tell. So I'll continue to do here what I've been doing, to the best of my ability, for the last six weeks - focusing on me and my girls.
For me, this experience has been a series of life lessons.
I've learned that my girls are shaken, but resilient. They are sad about losing their Paw Paw, and they miss their
Daddy a lot. But we've
gotten into a routine, and things are going as well as can be expected.
Which is to say that some days we really rock this on-our-own thing, and
some days we are one step away from clawing each others' faces off. Such is life. I think they are a little sick of nothing but The Mom Show 24/7. Sophie raged at me during a recent fight, "I don't want your face. I
want Daddy's face!" But they also cling to me more than usual, reaching out to touch me
whenever they can, reassuring themselves that one of us is still here.
Sophie burst into tears last week when I told her I have jury duty soon (great timing, Cook County!) because somehow she thought it meant that the judge might send me to jail. She wailed, "If
you go to jail, who will take care of us?! YOU SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF THAT BEFORE YOU MADE THE
POLICE MAD!" Emma asks me often to lay with her until she goes to
sleep because she is scared. Even my dog is having
frequent nightmares. The feelings manifest in different ways. But overall, they are okay.
I have learned that my husband, who I already thought did a lot around the house, actually does A LOT around the house. Having the burden rest suddenly on my lone shoulders is a huge eye-opener to just how much he contributes. My whole world is laundry and dishes and meals meals meals and changing light bulbs and yard work and taking out trash and school projects and grocery shopping and cleaning and refereeing and feeding the dog and drying tears and entertaining and picking up/dropping off children - all day every day, with no help/partner/buffer/break. I have always had enormous respect for single parents, but that respect is now through the roof. Don't get me wrong - I'm not deluded enough to think that my little experiment in single-parenting is anything close to the real deal. But it's given me the smallest taste into a single parent's world, and I'm left humbly astounded by it.
I have learned that I took "me" time for granted. I relied on Chris to pick up the slack so I could enjoy various outlets for myself - acting, socializing, exercising, shopping, napping, etc. All the things I would normally do "when Chris gets home" are now either gone or modified. When the girls are at school, I am working. For everything else...where I go, they go.
I have learned that it is really hard to go through a difficult time and not have your best friend by your side. Because, of course, my best friend is 300 miles away. Chris can't be here for me through this, because he needs to be there for his dad instead. He's exactly where he needs to be, and I don't have a moment's doubt or resentment about it. But there are still several times a day when I think, "God, I can't wait to tell Chris about this." And I can't. Because I don't want him worrying about me, about us. He has enough to worry about. I don't want to bother him with my petty needs or questions when
he is doing one of the single most important and difficult things he
will ever do in his life.
I have learned that I can do more than I think I can. Many things that I just relied on Chris to do, I can do for myself. (Cleaning up dog poop is an admitted exception; my backyard is currently a shit-filled wasteland.) And while I am sometimes mind-numbingly lonely, I've discovered that I don't actually
need all the socialization and outside distractions. I've simplified my life down to the very basics: work and home. And in some ways, it's a relief.
I have learned that I can do better. I have a couple of close friends/family who have been wonderful about checking in regularly and consistently. And by "wonderful" I mean "absolutely fucking brilliant." Others have reached out to say they care and are thinking of us. A handful check in periodically, asking for any new news about Chris or his dad. All of these gestures are deeply, deeply appreciated. But mostly, it's been pretty quiet. Beyond those core couple of people, there have been no real offers of help or time (eg, taking the girls for a few hours, coming to visit, lending an ear, whatever). It's been a little surprising, to be honest. I write this not to make anybody feel badly. (Please please please, that is
not my intent.) Rather, I write this because I have a two-part theory as to why this is, and my theory says way more about me than anyone around me.
Partly, I think it's just human nature for a lot of people with the absolutely best intentions to keep their distance when the shit hits the fan, either because they are uncomfortable, they don't know what to do, or they have too much going on in their own lives. I've developed this theory from personal experience, because I've behaved exactly the same way in the past. I've sent a card or a note, maybe a supportive text or comment on Facebook, and then I've figured - they've got a lot on their plates, they know I'm thinking about them, they'll ask for help if they need it, I don't want to
bother them - and I've gotten on with my life, worrying about them from afar. And it wasn't because I didn't care. Quite the opposite - I cared a lot, and I think most people who've been relatively absent in our lives the last few weeks care a lot too. It just is what it is. Everyone's dealing with something, and we are all trying to stay afloat. For me, I often don't know
how to help, so instead I do nothing. Whatever the reason, I don't blame anyone; life is hard, and we are all doing the best we can. In fact, I'm mostly thankful for the situation. Because my eyes have been opened to how I've fallen short in this area, and I am determined to do better in the future.
The second part of my theory is easier to specify, but harder to swallow. Clearly, I have failed to build a strong community around
myself. And that is
all on me. We aren't a member of a church, we don't have a huge social circle, we aren't close to neighbors, we live in a town that - three years later - still feels new and foreign. And as I said before, I think I've been less than a stellar friend to others in the past. So. I'm not sure what to do about this particular lesson, but it's one I take to heart and plan to ruminate on moving forward.
I have learned that while my current situation is far from unique, it's still okay to acknowledge that it sucks. I know many people going through many difficult situations right now. Bitching about six weeks without my husband will probably strike some as the height of self-absorbed ridiculousness. Which is why I haven't been writing much lately, honestly. I didn't want to have a post full of nothing but whining and complaints, and I knew if I started typing, that's where it could potentially go. But it's my truth. It's where we are at right now.
And that's okay.
I have learned that family is everything. The clarity this experience has given me is something for which I am truly grateful. I know what matters,
truly matters, in a way I haven't fully felt or understood in quite awhile. The people I love and who love me in return are my family, whether blood or chosen. They are my people, my clan, my tribe. And that is everything to me. All the rest is just noise - still important, but not essential. That knowledge seems like it should be obvious, but it has proven too easy for me to forget over the years. NOTHING in my life works without my family.
Lastly, I have learned that love heals. My girls have been such a source of strength for me these weeks. I've lost count of how many times one of their hugs has restored me. And every time I feel their little arms around me, I think of my husband. It makes me desperately sad that Chris is facing such a difficult time without us by his side. Every day, I wonder...who is hugging
him right now? Every night, I pray for our love to travel far and strong and squeeze him tight. So I urge you to take a look around at the person(s) standing beside you every day, the ones who are truly essential in your life...who
are your life. Take a deep breath of thanks and give them a nice, long, hard embrace. I promise, the loving energy will renew you both.
