A peaceful ending came at last for my husband's uncle. He began his journey on Sunday morning (the day after our 17th wedding anniversary) once his family finally left him to go after having not left his presence at all for the past week. As soon as we'd learned of his passing, Sinatra's song "My Way" entered my mind. All too appropos considering the man we'd just let go of.
And now my mind can once again grasp the images of the man he'd been when I'd met him instead of being haunted by those images of his cancer filled body - a sad pained shell of who he'd once been. I can once again see his tall intimidating frame, jet black hair and beard, and hear his deep rumbling voice that made lesser mortals wet themselves. He was strong and demanding and expected a great deal from everyone around him. He wasn't always nice but I'd never had a problem with him at all. In fact, he accepted me long before much of the rest of the family had. In an Italian Catholic family that still shuns divorce, that's saying something since I was my husband's second wife.
His absence is going to be difficult as is the knowledge that constantly looms that my mother-in-law is on this same path with the exact same cancer that just took her brother and had taken her mother and father 17 and 16 years ago (respectively). This weekend will mark the 17th anniversary of "Grandma's" passing - she held on until after our wedding.
I dread the thought that this might just mark the beginning of horrible endings for this family considering that this cancer is actually hereditary. It is virtually impossible for me not to consider this thought and it has been ever present since the most recent diagnoses of my husband's uncle and mother. My husband is scared - understandably. The one difference I can guarantee with him that I couldn't do anything about with them is that I will not stand idly by knowing what help there is for him and not forcing it on him. He will be treated - my way - because, much like his uncle, I do things my way.
The Trash Heap has spoken.
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4 comments:
cool; you survived.
A friend of mine showed up at my place with a friend a few days ago: his wife, Sharon's, sister died from cancer that day.
I was surprised; this very strong man broke into tears talking to me.
The root of his pain was in empathasing (z?) (ok, spell- checked; both ways ok) with his wife's loss. He was mainly concerned about her pain.
I had already assured him that we truly (like it or not - believe it or not; are eternal). But, I did hold him in my arms, and even if I did not break into tears, I shared his pain.
Hey girl; stay strong, it really does turn out ok in the end, for people who are loving, kind and try to be good :o)
Wylde,
Thank you for the support. I'm also sorry to hear of your friends' loss.
I agree that we are eternal though in what sense I cannot say for certain. There is some comfort in that idea for me and I know that my husband's uncle was in contact with those who'd already passed as he was preparing his exit from this realm. He spoke to them constantly that last week of his life.
I'm definitely trying to stay strong. Sometimes a chance to catch one's breath is appreciated though that time has not come yet. One day I shall have the opportunity.
...and it cut off my actual comments, after the quote there.
((hugs)) for your loss, and your strength, and your love for your family, and everything. Life happens, and changes.
The trash heap may feel trashed, but what else is compost, but nature's junk that makes the garden grown even more lovely!
Thank you, Maebius, for the poem and the support.
A loss here is a gain in the Otherworld I keep trying to remind myself. I hope they're ready for him! ;o)
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