Two Years

July 5th was 2 years since my Dad died unexpectedly, while hiking in Italy with my step-mom. In some ways it feels like yesterday, and in others it feels longer. It still hurts a lot. We spent the day at the Marin Headlands, with a short hike and views of the ocean. Loyal readers know that I met my Dad when I was 21, and have never lived in the same state at the same time, so of course, I have no childhood memories of him. My sisters do, though, and they said that one thing he used to cook for them is Quiche Lorraine. Ted and dairy don’t get along like they used to, so when he is out with friends, I generally take advantage of the situation and eat something that he can’t manage, like Quiche Lorraine. So, in my Dad’s honor, Maya and I had Quiche Lorraine for dinner, though I bought it, I did not make it from scratch. He spent the majority of his life in Portland, Oregon, so I thought a nice Oregon wine would be nice, and it was.

One of my sisters called, and I assumed she wanted to talk about Dad, about missing him, about getting through tough days like anniversaries. She did, but she also wanted to tell me that she has been diagnosed with cervical cancer. It is not a common KIND of cervical cancer, and is very aggressive. That’s the bad news. The good news is that it has not spread, or metastasized, and she knows the right people in Portland to get her treatment right away, the best doctors.

So now here we are, me in California, wanting to help but far away. Her in Portland, with a LOT of family and friends and so on. She has worked at a small private school there for ages, and is well loved. The parents have set up a calendar for people to bring her food. Her husband is a school teacher, so can be with her for much of the summer. Her kids are old enough to understand what is going on, to chip in and help make things easier. (J is in High School, S in Middle School). She is feeling strong and grateful that they caught it early. She started radiation and chemotherapy this week. I’m texting and calling, because she said it would feel good to know she is in people’s thoughts. I expect some people feel that way, and others want to be left alone. Perhaps when she settles in to it all, or perhaps when she finishes this 6 week course, we can go up and see her. Not sure.

Being an atheist, I don’t believe in praying to God for help. But I do believe in love and support, and I don’t see anything wrong with asking for help along the way. So please, spare a thought for her, and send healing thoughts her way.

3 Comments

  • nance

    What a poignant time for you, J. So many wistful emotions. I certainly understand the feelings of loss and distance, and I understand the helplessness they can bring with them.

    There’s a great deal to be said for sending supportive messages via text, email, and snail mail. I have a friend struggling after two surgeries, and I send her cards and letters weekly. Her daughter says they brighten her days considerably.

    Hang in there. I’ll be thinking of you.

  • Ally Bean

    Sometimes it seems like it all happens at once. And to not be able to help in the moment is difficult. I understand. I’ll keep your sister, and you, in my thoughts. Peace to all.

  • Ted

    When my co-worker was going through cancer treatments, she said (via her husband) that getting letters in the mail (but not virtual hugs and prayers on FB or texts) meant so much to her. That, and the fact that many people at work cooked food for them while she was recovering from her treatments. Alas, she didn’t make it, but her husband said at her memorial how the letters and food really made her feel supported through such a physically and emotionally trying time.