Magic Jewball

all signs point to no

 

Everything you do continues long after you’re gone

Filed under : Etc.
On December 27, 2011
At 2:30 pm
Comments : 18

I wrote a far better post meant to be published tomorrow, on the last day of Hannukah, but I’ve decided to shelve it. It was about…. feelings. I am not a person who talks a lot about feelings, and if my former therapist, from when my Mom died, is reading this, she’ll agree. I am more a “facts mixed with comic relief” type person. And if I am loathe to talk about feelings in “real life,” than I am even less inclined to do so on the Internet. In fact, every time I pictured someone reading what I wrote in my last post, I cringed. Imagine me going down a mental list of people in my life who read this blog, and every name I’d hit…. ack.

But I’m aware that I’ve left people hanging and that I have friends, good friends who care. I am lucky to have them. And you (twice, if you are in both categories, and of course you are). So I’ll state it plainly: my father has cancer. I’m really, really depressed. Those who have had ill parents (and I am one) know what this entails, especially when that parent is alone. But I feel better than I have the last few weeks in the sense that the normal idiocies of life, like a cab ride that was too expensive and a back-ordered cell phone, have begun to irritate me again. One small step for mankind! That is, I am losing that “who cares, my father has cancer” and occasional “fuck off, my father has cancer” sensibility. Everything becomes normal after a while, even when you’re depressed. You lose the compunction to punch the guy on the street from Amnesty International who asks “hey, how are you today!” or the person on Facebook who posts, “major disaster, burned the latkes, lol!!!” Or maybe not.

And I want to be kind, because people have been kind to me. But it’s hard. So I’ll give it a shot, and if I find that I am not kind, then I’ll take some more time off. Because I hate “don’t take it personally.” I always take it personally; why shouldn’t you?

There won’t be a holiday song post this year but the title of this post is from a Neil Finn song that I thought of when I heard my favorite Christmas song, The Waitresses’ Christmas Wrapping, this year. It will tell you what frame of mind I was in when I heard it that I immediately remembered that the singer had died young, of cancer. But then I remembered the Neil Finn line.

Here’s the comic relief, and you’ll have to be a Waitresses fan (or at least know their two biggest songs) to get it: She did know what boys like – cranberries. Har. Happy holidays!



Neil Finn – Truth

 

18 Comments for this post

 
Beth says

Much love, my friend.

 
Steph318 says

Thinking of you and sending healing vibes.

 
Becca says

Thank you, both. And Beth, I am just catching up… to you, too. I have never used SMH before, but SMH.

 
Mo says

I have been thinking about you, a lot. Take care of you, and do whatever you need to do in furtherance of that. If that means disappearing for a while, or raging at anyone nearby, then those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.

 
TamTam says

I am in your corner my dear! My father had three different types of cancer during his latter part of life. He was such a trooper and urged us all to live in the moment and not “lolligag” in sadness. That was a hard lesson to learn and to honor. But I did and am so glad I had those days with dad.

So, try not to “lolligag”. Hand out extra love and good cheer and it will come back to you ten fold.

I love you my friend.

 
sarrpon says

Becca. I wish I could say something that could make things better. This is the darkest time of the year. Pitchers and catchers report February 20th.

Holding you in my heart.

 
Fran says

I’m sorry, Becca. Your ponderings about this are lovely and carefully considerate, though, which I’d bet is a testimony to the values your parents taught you. What they did continues on.

 
Becca says

Thank you all so much, it means a lot to me.

Mo, that is smart, thank you.

Tam, your father was right (of course). But I need some time to lolligag in sadness. It has only been a month and this could go on years. Sometimes you just have to let yourself feel what you feel. Right now I feel that lolligag is a good word.

Sarp, that is very helpful, seriously. I need the routine of baseball.

Fran, thank you for that. They also taught me how to take public transportation in foreign countries and that your bookshelves can always hold a few more books.

 
Lisa aka Nutz says

Hey Becca – you do whatever you need to do and feel whatever you feel. We just went through this with my FIL and I can tell you my husband has been in your place. You’re in my thoughts, sweets.

 
Julie aka Solace says

I’m so sorry, Becca.

 
TamTam says

By all means…lolligag as much as you need to. It’s the best way to heal. XO

 
Becca says

Thank you, guys, for the sympathy and empathy.

Tam, I have heard that. :)

 
Elena says

Thanks for coming back to explain, Becca. I have been worried about you. I did suspect someone you loved was ill. All the best to your father.
I agree the routine of baseball can help through difficult times. My mother was considered on her death bed right around Opening Day. All the family came to visit her. She hung on and died right before the final game of the World Series that year [2011]. Here’s hoping your father sees several more World Series.

 
Gemellus says

I’m so sorry to hear about your father. Glad some raging has come back. I missed your updates and will put you and your father in my prayers. Peace to you!

 
Becca says

Thank you both.

Elena, that doesn’t surprise me at all about your mother. I remember during my mother’s shiva, when all the people would overwhelm me, I’d go upstairs to my childhood bedroom and listen to the game on the radio.

Gemellus, that is much appreciated, thank you.

 
KP says

I have been sending out love and thoughts and prayers to you even before reading this, so I hope they reached you then, and now. You know where I am if you need or want me. Neil Finn…Love. Him. And I love you too, but you knew that, didn’t you?

 
Alex says

Oh, hell.

I have the impulse to say a lot of other things too, Becca, but that sums up a lot of it. And it’s succinct.

 
Becca says

Thank you both.