Funerals

Today I went to a funeral for the wife of a gentleman that my husband works with. Not only did this poor man lose his wife to cancer, but he has been fighting cancer as well. I did not know either of them in all honesty but I wanted to show my support as he has always been so kind to my family. A few years back after he had gotten his diagnosis he told us a story about how he had been so depressed that he couldn't get out of bed. His wife had encouraged him to find a reason to get out of bed and he turned on the tv and there was my face on the tv staring back at him. I was being interviewed at the Race for the Cure with a big group of friends talking about how I turned a bad chapter in my life into something beautiful. He said he needed that message right then and there I was. That meant a lot to my husband and I to hear. It was at that moment my husband and I realized that the work we were doing was "bigger than us" now. It was really wonderful to meet him and his daughter. I just hate that it was under these circumstances.
I cried with them. We had never met before but I felt that incredible helplessness that they were feeling at that moment. It stings and I could feel it in my soul. The most hurtful thing about cancer is that you can do everything right and still lose.
It stirs up a lot of emotion for me. The fact that my parents are about the same age. Seeing all of the memorial pictures that have all of the same elements of our family pictures from the early 80's. So many similarities! And of course the obvious, although we each had different cancers, we all had a silent understanding that each day was a Russian Roulette with no rhyme or reason why one of us lives and one of us gets our wings. My heart simply breaks for them.
After my diagnosis 13 years ago I went into a dark rebellious spiral. I was so convinced that I had a death sentence that I wanted to live and die on my terms. I was a child forced to make some very serious adult decisions about my health and my body and dammit, if I was going to die, it wasn't going to happen wasting away in a hospital bed with a horrible monster feeding off of my once healthy tissue. No, I wanted to die a sexier death than that. I partied like a rock star. I hoped to die in my sleep after drinking too much on a night out with my friends. Or by doing something incredibly stupid or incredibly brave, or being hit by a bus, shot by an arrow, or choking on a ham sandwich. Anything else would have been more acceptable, painless and far less excruciating for my parents to watch me go through. Or so I thought at the time.
I think anyone that has been through major illness can tell you that they have planned their funeral in their head a million times. For mine, I want to have a big party with an open bar. If I could ever do anything right in my life, it would be that I throw a great party, right? Anyone that shows up in jeans or a baseball hat, you can turn them right around and make them go home because they obviously didn't know me well enough to know that I think that is more disrespectful than not showing up in the first place.
I would want everyone to know that I have lived an amazing life. I have done things that people can only dream about. Some nights when I am waiting for test results or have something I am worried about, I just look through my pictures and am amazed by the life I have lived just since I have been with my husband. I honestly think he saved my life. When I needed it the most he reached right into the deep dark hole that I dug myself and said, "you are better than this." Life has given me more than I have ever deserved since then.
Before I had my daughter, I would go through those pictures and think, "it would be ok if now was the time. I've had a wonderful life." Of course now that I am a mother I wouldn't dare think that way. There are so many things I want to see her do. She is going to be a catalyst of hope. Even at her young age, I see her as a peacemaker.
If there are tears for me at all, I would hope that it would be after laughing so hard telling a stupid story about something ridiculous we did together. It might sound ludicrous, but I would love a real New Orleans Jazz Funeral. I have never seen a more raw expression of emotion than I have in those videos. The powerful yet weeping brass, I can't think of anything better that expresses a celebration of life and pain and my love for music all at the same time. And I want to leave in a black horse drawn carriage to Calvary Cemetery. I always loved to visit there with all the beautiful statues and being surrounded by all my family.
I can't even help it! My mind goes here every time I am witness to another victim of cancer. Every funeral, every time another person in my support group posts that her cancer came back, every call back for a retest of something suspicious, it opens that scar that I have tried for years to heal. As God and Gwen as my witness, I will never stop doing anything in my power to stop this horrible disease. It isn't fair that anyone has to go without a parent or for any parent to lose a child even if they have done everything right. We can't give up. We can never give up. I hope if you take nothing else from my late night rambling, it would be to find a reason to celebrate life every single day and never ever stop fighting. One day our children won't have to worry about cancer. I wish for that day every day of my life.
Love and peace,
Alissa