19 years, 19 years, 19 years, 19 years.....

Nineteen years? What's 19 years? When's 19 years? That's a long time.
Today is a tough day for me.  My friend just texted me and said I hope it is a healing and relaxing vacation.  Interesting she would say the word healing.  I woke up today unsure what to expect - sadness?  grief? anger? numbness?  After I got her text, I realized it would be about healing.  At least that's what I would like.  It is a broken heart after all.  I would like to be on the mend.  I realized I've had this part of my heart broken for 19 years and I'm not sure it the wounds will never completely heal.  I've gotten to a point thought where I've realized that's okay.  As a result, I become overwhelmed in the waves of sadness as it crashes over me sometimes and I fall. 

I've stopped asking Why?  That was the question that I asked very briefly anyways after it happened.  It would burst out at different times of my life then it would be tucked away neatly like a hankerchief that would be folded and put away in a dresser.  Where was she when I graduated from highschool? Where was she when I went away to college? Where was she when I received my acceptance letter to medical school?  Where was she as I married the love of my life? Where was she when my children were born?  Where is she now as I struggle through so much of what life has put me through?  Where is she when as I need SO much support because of my special needs child?

I often tell people that when I think of a pivotal focal point in my life a "visual filmstrip" of that moment pops up in front of me and surrounds me.  Like some sci-fi movie that has a cool interactive digital 180 degree screen in front of you that you can touch and maneuver .  I hope that made at least SOME sense.  Well, if it doesn't just think of it as some photos just lined up next to each other (poor man's version.  Haha)

Then I look at it.  As painful as it can be. Let me explain.  When I turned 36 this year it was HARD.  It wasn't where I thought I would be in my life and that was bitterly disappointing.  I was emotional, I was tearful, just besides myself.  I wondered why. And then the film strip burst open from my Pandora's box.  I saw it.  The scenes.  I'm 13. Mom telling me she had found a lump underneath her left armpit.  I told her to go see a doctor. She went.  Next scene, I was asked her what the doctor said.  She was never a good liar.  She said everything was fine but I knew it wasn't.  Next scene, we are at the hospital.  She is lying down at the hospital bed awaiting her mastectomy.  She jokes around that we should all look at her breast since it will be cut off in a few minutes.  Next scene, we are at a family friend's house and some lady tells my mom that my brother and I don't understand what's going on because we are too young.  Damn it lady I want to tell her, I do fucking understand.  Dont' assume because I'm a kid that I don't know what's going on. It makes me mad. My brother's junior high school graduation and how proud she was of him. Fast forward to next scenes which are too painful so the film goes fast.  A spot in the liver, bone pain, hair loss, 1991 new years cake.  Her painful smiless ghostly look in the photo. Inability to walk. to eat.  Her embarrasement as I had to assist her going to the bathroom.  The ambulance ride over.  The EMT yelling at me because I was too close to the ambulance as I was driving.  Her in the oxygen mask.  Telling me to go to church.  I find this one odd and comical - not to eat pork.  (I'm not sure about that one. Maybe it was in delirium but to this day I feel a bit guilty eating pork).  Her asking my father if he had found a good sunny lot for her.  Her actual passing - awful but in my film strip.  Her eyes rolling backward and her breath slowing down.  I saw my father run to her.  I ran to her scared and I was so scared to say I love you, I don't know why.  I don't even remember where my brother was.  I remember my father getting a haircut to get ready for the funeral and us just sitting there waiting for him to finish.  I remember wearing a black blouse and a black pencil skirt (Of course I would remember my outfit - even at 17!) and some lady asking me where I got the outfit.  I wanted to kill her.  I remember the surreal fealing of having to pick a yellow dress for her coffin since yellow was her favorite color.  Her casket being lowered.  I was just numb.  My dad in the hearse telling someone "everyone loved her".  My brother saying to me I want to be with her in heaven.  Then THAT filmstrip ends.

Turning 36 was when she was diagnosed.  19 years later I still have a deeply broken heart.  Healing is what I need.  Not anger, not whys, not rage, I need healing for my broken heart.  This is a tough day.