Last Sunday, 8/22/21, marked 6-month's having passed from when Linda's brain tumor got diagnosed. She went straight into Good Samaritan Hospital that same night. Two days later, they removed 90% of a stage-4 Glioblastoma tumor, taking 70% of her right hemisphere and providing her with a subsequent 9-12 month lifespan prognosis. With treatment.Everything from that 2/22/21 phone call, let alone her odd behavior preceding it for weeks on end and leading up to this week, has been surreal. I'm still coming to terms with it all. In between time spent pushing ahead, attending to the needs of my attention, the reality and magnitude of this will routinely hit me. This has been unprecedented in the raw drama and intensity it has brought into my daily existence. And it's far from over. Her condition worsens daily, as does the emotional impact that comes from seeing something so brutal ravage and take her from her children and friends. And when she does pass away soon, which is an absolute certainty, what gets left behind, for those left behind, will take a lifetime to work through.
I have wrestled with that marriage and then with our divorce since I first recognized that I had put myself into a compromised position. Well before I said, "I do." I did not want to back out for fear of missing an opportunity to work past my uncertainties. I found myself in a situation wherein any step I took to save my sanity might have cost her hers. So, I compromised and tried to make it work as best as possible. I never disliked her or wanted to cause her any grief whatsoever. We went through life together, deaths together, and births together. I did love and care about her; it was just not a good pairing, not a healthy dynamic, and not how either of us should want to spend our lives.
I have wrestled with the certainty of death, intensely and verbosely, since perhaps as far back as my first viewing of Koyaanisqatsi in the mid=80s. I have been struggling to master my grip on my loved ones' mortality and that of my own as well for decades. I have obsessed over the absolute of it. I did not want to face my own, yet I expected the frequency of death crossing my path to increase, naturally, with my elders' aging: my aunt, my mom, parents of friends, and other "2nd-degrees-of-separation" people over 75. Those I expected.
The last thing I would have ever expected is what is happening now—the passing of my ex-wife of 15yrs, the mother of our twins, likely to occur within weeks of their turning 18. The range of emotions and feelings this experience is bringing up for me has taken me completely off-guard and onto paths of thoughts and actions that are more complicated and challenging than I would have expected, as well. I can't stop thinking about everything this impacts.
I think about how young the kids are. How dramatic and significant of a life event this will be for them. It already is. This is monumental in their development. It will influence the rest of their lives and their relationships. It will leave a wound that will never fully heal. It will bring a melancholy tone to their holidays, they will feel her absence on their birthdays and pangs of remembrance every October 14th. In time, with years of maturing and more significant life experiences, they will each come into a deeper and more intimate understanding of her character. As much as they might insist they are ok, they are not, and they will not be for a long, long time.
I think about Linda and my relationship with her for over 20 years. I set aside my share of frustration and anguish 6-months ago. I aspire to be an example of compassion and caring, and I mourn that she was never willing to face her circumstances and to have had more closure with her children. What she has had to endure this year has been her worst nightmare. I can't express how heartbreaking it has been to witness her struggles while trying to support and encourage her, to give her a sense of being valued, and to bring her to a place of peace and comfort as the disease has progressed.
I think about Jennifer, how genuine she is, and how fortunate we are to have her in our lives. She is entirely behind my spending the time I have been into this. She knows what it means to me, and she's 100% secure in our relationship. She is supporting the kids and showing kindness, concern, and caring for Linda's circumstances. At some point, one of us will have to endure the loss of the other. That is inevitable. Recognizing that is inspiring us to be more conscious of the value of our time together.
I try now to consciously see today as a gift and tomorrow as a wish. John Lennon was right. "Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans." Appreciating simple moments like our dog's excitement at being walked, my wife's passing smile, my son's enthusiasm about his latest interest, my daughter's recognition of numeric patterns are all easily overlooked as routine and mundane. Yet, they are what makes life precious. These are just some of many reasons to be grateful. All things I'll miss when they are no more.
Going through something like this changes you. It has and still is changing me. Significantly. It's making me look at every day differently, and every remembrance too—all with more profound gratitude. Although I would typically welcome a life-affirming wake-up call, I wholeheartedly wish to have avoided this one, as it comes at a far more significant price than its current value. Thus, it falls on me to consciously invest these lessons so they might appreciate over time. However much of that I have left myself.
"I am a man
I am self-aware
And everywhere I go
You're always right there with me
I've flirted with you all my life
Even kissed you once or twice
And to this day I swear it was nice
But clearly, I was not ready
When you touched a friend of mine
I thought I would lose my mind
But I found out with time
That really I was was not ready
Oh, death you hector me
Decimate those dear to me
Tease me with your sweet relief
You are cruel and you are constant
When my mom was cancer sick
She fought but then succumb to it
But you made her beg for it
Lord Jesus, please I'm ready"
-Vic Chesnutt