Rain Rain Go Away

I'm under the weather this week, which really isn't saying much since it's been downright dreary. It's like 46 fantastic degrees right now and raining like a sieve. Our yard is turning greener by the minute, I kid you not. It's as if the blades of grass are inching up right before my eyes striving for a sun I cannot see. The rain is good for the buds and blooms about to burst I know, but it's keeping me from pounding the pavement. I'm on a serious streak having logged 20 miles in the past 4 days. This ritual is such a resounding source of relief during times like these. I need a break in the clouds, both literally and figuratively speaking. Sadly, it's not in the forecast for today.

The usual suspects are to blame: hubris, disappointment, disease and death.

An old wound reopened. The scab wasn't even visable any longer, but the hurt was far from healed. No, I have to say that it stung much worse being picked off than it did when it was first inflicted. In retrospect, I suspect that has much to do with being a punch-drunk combination of numb and shocked at the time. I couldn't see clearly enough or feel fiercely to fully understand the hurtful exclusion. I made excuses for it. I told myself that it was OK...that I was OK with it, and when I'd get an inkling otherwise, I told myself that it wasn't about me. No, it most certainly wasn't and believe me I got that message booming loud and crystal clear. In the end, I tucked it away and went on with a smile even if forced at times. I was protecting my heavy heart.

This matter of the heart that is once again weighing on mine heavily is making me miss my Mom more than usual. I'm missing her because she would have understood. She would have validated my feelings. She would have been there for me...with me. I just hate HATE hate that she is gone.

And you know what else I hate? I hate the word hate, but it's the best one in this case.

So I'm drowning in my sorrows and on a direct downward spiral, when my cousin calls to interrupt my pity party with a diagnosis that stops me in my tracks. She tells me that she has cancer. Myeloma. I pause for what feels like forever before I tell her I am sorry. Then she tells me that with treatment she has about 5 years. Ongoing ingestion of horrible concoctions for half a decade with a dirty laundry list of side effects. After another pregnant pause, I tell her I don't know what to say because I know that I cannot say what I want to say. What I want to say is to hell with cancer. Fuck it! It's not FAIR. I do not have the mettle to deal with more loved ones having to deal with this. The drugs are poison. I wish you luck making sense of everything you will hear from your new team of doctors, finding out and being considered for clinical studies, or being so far from family when you are going to need them most.

She agrees that there is nothing one can say. She tells me she's really calling to see if I want to accompany her next week on an all expense paid trip to Costa Rica where we will celebrate living not dying. Where we will talk about the lush and colorful jungle, beautiful beaches, stunning vistas most certainly not cancer. I have to refrain from laughing because this is just why I love my cousin: hers is a spirit not to be contained. She's spontaneous and eccentric and generous and good. She's not a why person, but rather a why not. She doesn't say can't, she says how. I'm the polar opposite, so I say I couldn't and I almost choke on my words. Truthfully, there are plenty of reasons why it makes little sense to go jutting off to Central America in a few days, but as good as they are, I'm struggling with whether or not they are right. It's times like these that make me question the very essence of what is important in life.

Yet, I'm pretty sure it's not work, money or a calendar of to dos.

She's traveled the world with her children, but apparently Costa Rica remains on her bucket list. I ask if she wouldn't rather ask her son or daughter to be her companion. She tells me that her daughter hasn't even called to hear the results despite knowing she would have them this day. I tell her I'm sure there's a reason. There's always a reason, but again is it good? Right? Important? And really who is to judge? That's another post I'm afraid.

This is not a random, pissy post. No, my stifled sadness, my Mom's untimely death and my cousin's sudden sickness are related and relevant to one another. Life is short. Too short, in fact, to not say what you need to say, to do right, to be happy, to love with all your heart, to live every moment not with reckless abandon, but with joy and gratitude and the knowledge of what a God-given gift it is.

It stopped raining. The forecast is not always right, nor is the prognosis, and in a mere moment life just like the weather can change