I started the day with a massage - a good, deep-tissue, 90 minute relaxation session - then came home to take a post-massage nap. After I woke up, I went over to the castle, and walked in just in time to hear the "whoosh" of the burners as Albert worked out the last of the installation kinks that he'd been fighting for almost three days, and fired up the new boiler. We'd managed to get it in before the temps dropped low enough for long enough to bring the house down to freezing; the plumbing and the plants were safe. *huge sigh of relief*
So, why did a random comment from my brother a few hours later - that the castle's problems will very shortly not be my problems - have me running from the place one short step ahead of a storm of tears?
I was fit company for no one that evening as the storm raged in my soul. Fortunately for the health of my relationships, I was alone as I fixed and ate dinner. I texted the kids to let them know food was ready if they wanted it, but didn't want to talk to anyone. I was unaccountably angry, and any words I would have said would have been hurtful.
After I ate, I sat down on the sofa under a blanket with a glass of wine, put on a headset, and listened to my favorite calming music on repeat. I took out my journal and proceeded to try to figure out what was lurking beneath my over-reaction to an innocent (and true) comment. It took me a while, but I finally managed to dig on down to the real reason I was crying.
Turns out the answer was: Libby.
My heart follows the rhythm of the seasons closely. I hadn't been watching the calendar, but it had, and the day after tomorrow will mark the second anniversary of her death. The tie-in to Ted's remark isn't overly clear to me, but I'm pretty sure it goes along with the fact that none of the problems she had before she got sick are still her problems. She's beyond problems.
I carry a good-sized chunk of survivor's guilt - why is she dead while I am still alive? Why her and not me? We share many of the same genetics. Why was my cancer the sort that could be beat into remission and hers the type that, despite early detection and good care, bulldozed an unstoppable path through her systems?
My kids are grown, hers still need her.
Not right, not fair.
I didn't try to stop or avoid the swirl of emotions. I just kept writing, naming the feelings as they surfaced and acknowledging their presence. Eventually, several hours later, the winds calmed, leaving my eyes and heart sore but also more at peace.
It's not right and it's not fair. But near as I can ascertain, what's right and fair have very little to do with who dies when in this world. Maybe someday I will learn the whys behind the reasons I'm still here and she is gone, but none of us gets out of this alive and the best thing I can do to honor her is to live the days I have.
Libby, I miss you. lots. Where ever it is your spirit has travelled, I hope you are happy and at peace. I hope you're having fun. Love you....... ... .. .
❤️
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