You never really say goodbye

Clearly I'm not anywhere as good as Jeannie was about keeping the blog updated. Mainly because I guess it was always her baby, her soapbox. She always had a message, a thought, or just an update on our lives. But I am remiss in not saying anything about her memorial, which came off better than I ever could have hoped. It was a completely beautiful October morning, sunny and warm (oh how we could use some sunny and warm right now). There were about a dozen people who rose to speak, including myself. 

It's been three weeks now since the memorial. And maybe it's just as well that time has passed before I've written about it. Because weeks later people who were there are still commenting on what a nice gathering it was. Everyone who spoke knew and loved her. Everyone had their own memories and perspectives. That was the beauty of it. It was everything I had hoped for and then some. In the beginning I commented that most often we leave such things to members of the clergy. Nothing against the profession. They do the best they possibly can in those situations. But they never (in most cases) knew the departed anywhere near as well as the people sitting in the audience. 

Some folks have apologized for not having been able to bring themselves to rise and speak. But there's no apology necessary.  How I managed to maintain my composure is still anyones guess. Maybe I had a little help. In all my remaining days I will always be happy we did this the way we did rather than doing the "traditional" funeral arrangements. 

As for my own situation I pretty much decided months ago that I wouldn't do more chemo. If Jeannie were still here I would just to have more time to be with her. She told me in her first go round with chemo that if she didn't have me she wouldn't go through those treatments. I didn't fully understand until it was my time to take the poison. Cancer patients don't do chemo for themselves. They do it to spend time with their loved ones. I'll be scanned again in a couple weeks.  The blood work is already giving an idea of what the scan will show. I still feel fine for the most part. But after watching Jeannie I know just how quickly things can change.

What ever time is left I am enjoying. Taking care of myself, of Tillie and Rose. Of all the loose ends that need to be tied up before my time runs out. Family and friends have been wonderful and considerate. And I've learned a lot about grief and bereavement. It's very tiring for one. It's best faced head on for another. Hospice offers a lot of a lot of support for survivors in the way of counseling and group events that I had no idea existed. What follows is one of the nuggets I picked up there:

I had my own notion of grief.
I thought it was the sad time.
That followed the death of someone you love.
And you had to push through it to get to the other side.
But I am learning there is no other side. There is no pushing through.
But rather, there is absorption.
Adjustment.
Acceptance.
Grief is not somethiung you complete, but rather you endure.
Grief is not a task to finish and move on,
But an element of yourself, an alteration of your being.
A new way of seeing.
A new definition of self. 

                                                  -Author unkown