Another tragedy
About a month before Jon died my grandmother was diagnosed
with terminal stomach cancer. At the same time, we were preparing for the
passing of his grandfather, also as a result of cancer. At the time, it seemed
too much to deal with. But Jon was my rock. Even though he was expecting the
death of his own grandfather anytime, he was there for me anytime I felt sad.
Then after his grandfather passed, just two weeks before he would, he grew even
more supportive. I went to see my grandmother everyday and he told me each
time, to take as much time with her as I needed because he wished he’d have had
that opportunity with his grandfather. It meant the world to my grandmother.
This weekend I received the news that my grandmother had
taken a turn for the worst and it probably won’t be long. While I feel that her
passing will be a blessing for her and will end her suffering, it’s still a
difficult inevitability to swallow. I’m still dealing with the loss of my
partner in life, the person who made everything bad seem not so bad and now I
have to add to that the inevitable loss of my grandmother. And I have to deal
with that without him here to comfort me. His memory gives me comfort. I can
think of what he would say and do and that gives me comfort, but it’s not the
same.
This all makes me wonder why in the world everything good in
my life seems to get taken away so abruptly. I tuck my beautiful girls in at
night and I can’t help but wonder, are they going to fall fate to my awful
luck. I’ve become overly protective over them. I’m obsessed with their safety.
When my ex-father-in-law passed away suddenly last summer
his wife became obsessed with the girls’ well being. Jon and I had an argument
about it. I remember it well. I was covering a story at USF St. Pete about
funding available as a result of the BP oil spill. It was an evening story and
Jon had the kids. Our middle daughter had had an allergic reaction to her
step-mother’s cat while there for a long weekend and it required a trip to the
emergency room. Spring break was coming up and the girls were supposed to go to
their dad’s for the week. She did not want them to go. Their dad did. He was
taking precautions – buying air purifiers and cleaning every nook and cranny of
the apartment, even isolating the cat to areas where our daughter would not
have to go. We spoke to her doctor about precautions and it still wasn’t
enough. She was obsessed with the idea that something bad would happen to our
little girl. I remember defending her thoughts to Jon who thought she was being
irrational. Looking back on it, I’m glad I didn’t cave in. I’m now left in the
same lonely and terrified place she was in. Every minute I’m away from my girls
I’m afraid something will happen to them. Every time they drive in someone else’s
car or I drop them off at school or leave them at a friend’s house. We went
swimming the other day and while I’ve always been fairly liberal in my watching
them because they are all strong swimmers and I’ve always let them venture off
to the playground without worrying too much, I was suddenly consumed with
watching their every move.
I feel so helpless to stop anything terrible from happening
again. The realization that there are some things that you simply just can’t
control. I tried to save Jon. Not just that night, but every day we were
together. I knew he had heart problems and I urged him to eat better and exercise
more. I followed up on his doctor’s appointments. I made sure he was taking his
medication and that they were refilled before he ran out each month. And that
night I put every ounce of my energy into doing chest compressions. I kept my
cool and stayed alert, careful not to miss any instruction. And despite all
that effort, he still left us.
This stark reality reinforces the single most precious
lesson Jon left for all who knew him and those who have heard his story: live
every day and enjoy every moment. I am careful to talk to friends and family
more now. I read that one extra bedtime story I used to decline because it was
too late. I stay out past bedtime with my girls because, what’s another thirty
minutes? I stopped being so picky about what they eat – within reason. Fast
food is still off limits. I stopped worrying about whether or not the house is
entirely clean. We just live, because we have nothing left to do but live. And every
moment I find happiness, I smile on Jon’s memory for giving us a life where
happiness is the only option. I’m still sad sometimes and I have a challenging
road ahead of me with this new set of grief looming in my future. But I will do
what Jon would have wanted me to do – live, smile and do something amazing. I’ve
opened my yes!
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