Life Is Right Now

I’ve got this plaque hanging up in my bedroom. It’s just one of those cheap, wooden ones with a saying, like you can find in pretty much any novelty store. I bought it because, to me, it’s one of those reminders that we need to look at every once in awhile so we don’t forget. Life is right now. Not yesterday, not last week, or last year, or tomorrow even. It’s right now. And right now, just a day after saying goodbye to my sister Christine, I and the rest of my family, can finally begin what I’m sure will be the very long process of healing.

I can’t speak for my mom or my siblings, nor the dozens of people who knew my sister and will have their own bit of healing to do. I can only speak for myself and my right now. Of course, for me the sadness is raw. I haven’t said this publicly until this moment, but I was the person who found my sister after she’d gone missing for a day. I’ve been reliving those moments in my head almost all day, everyday, since Monday night. I already realize that I’ll never be able to wash away the memories of the week, but I recognize that I’m probably going to need to seek some professional assistance to work through it, something I never thought I would have to do.

Of all the things that made me cry this week, it was the countless personal messages I’ve been receiving from friends and family, and even strangers who my sister touched in some way. Crying is therapeutic, and no matter how a person may feel about offering such words of condolence, I think it’s important to know that it doesn’t matter what was said or how it was said. Just the fact that someone found the strength to reach out means the world to the person who is grieving. To that, I offer my sincerest appreciation to everyone who reached out to us. Please know that however small you might think your gesture was, it meant the world to us.

Chrissy’s wake was surreal, as you can imagine. Being a part of her immediate family, I felt like a ping pong ball all day, with people waiting sometimes five deep, to offer their condolences.To all of you who came, especially on my behalf, and with whom I could only spare just a moment or two, I want you to know that through all the blur of yesterday, I remember that you came, and that you came not only out of respect for my sister, but out of love for me. My love for each and every one of you is returned tenfold.

I wish I could bottle up all if the humanity we experienced this week and keep it for all time. As happens, though, I know that life will continue and in some way that humanity will dissipate, sadly. We’ll maintain our political opinions and our personal issues with those in our lives, and that’s too bad. That’s really the tragedy of life. Well, not for me anymore. I know that life is too precious, too short, to be angry or to hold grudges. Right now, I have nothing but love for my family, for my friends, and for the compassionate side of my fellow human beings.

They say it often brings tragedy to bring people together, and I experienced that first-hand this week. In the days and weeks to come, I’m going to build on this, hold onto all that love, and carry it with me wherever I go. It is my hope that some who read my words will take them and run with them too. Reach out to those with whom you may be estranged and truly miss deep inside, give someone a hug, treat people with kindness. My heart is full right now, not only with sadness, but with love for you all. From the bottom of my heart, thank you!

It Was the Sixth of May

Though it is finally spring and the weather makes everything all nice again, this particular time of year is also one of reflection and sadness for my family.  You see, six years ago tomorrow, my dad, George Myers, passed away.  It's hard to believe it's been that log, but not a day goes by that I, and everyone else in my family, don't miss him.

Since I missed his birthday last month, April 2nd (I left for Europe that day...of course with thoughts of him in my head!), and I don't want to go the whole season without remembering and honoring him in some way.  So I'm posting a piece I wrote for Yahoo Voices on the day that he died, May 6th, 2009.  Read on...

I woke up this morning, as I do many mornings, with a song in my head.  Only the tune that landed in my head today was related to what was going to happen in just a little while.  The song, “Papa Was a Rolling Stone”, by the Temptations opens with the lines I’m still hearing now as I write this:

It was the third of September.

The day I’ll always remember,

Cause that was the day my daddy died.

Today George Myers, my father, passed on, and I awoke this morning knowing that it was going to happen.  We’d been dreading it for four days now, knowing that any hope of survival was near zero percent.  From the moment he was taken into the hospital, we were told that he had gone far too long without oxygen and that his brain was no longer functioning.  As the hours and days passed, we knew this was the one time he wasn’t going to beat it. 

We’d decided late last night to remove the support machines keeping his body alive, but we had to put it off for today because one of us was unable to be on hand.  It was an unpleasant situation, to say the least.  We all wanted to get past this anguish.  And having to wait until morning, waking up with the knowledge that your dad was going to die, is just too odious a circumstance to be in. 

Twenty eight years ago, my dad was diagnosed with Diabetes.  At first, none of us had been too familiar with the disease, but what we did know it was controllable one if you followed the guidelines associated with the having the condition.  In the beginning, dad was great about it.  He quit smoking.  He stopped drinking.  Changing his dietary habits, though, proved too difficult for him and this allowed this debilitating sickness to attack his body slowly and steadily for so long.

Early on, dad’s kidneys began to malfunction and he was sent to undergo dialysis treatments three times a week.  He was placed on a list for a kidney transplant.  I hadn’t known what dialysis was at first, and I don’t wish to speak of it here, but I know from dad’s experiences that it is not pleasant.

As is common with diabetics, one problem invariably leads to other problems.  To make things easier for his dialysis treatments, his doctor placed a plastic shunt in his arm.  I recall almost immediately there were infections, blockages, and other problems associated with the multiple shunts that were eventually placed within his arms.  These problems foreshadowed the more serious and painful things to come.  I can’t possibly recall the numerous problems dad’s experienced over the years, but here are some I remember:

-          - While working in a local supermarket, a 2 liter bottle of soda fell off a shelf and landed on dad’s big toe.  An infection began to materialize.  That was in May.  By August, the infection had gotten so bad; he had to be hospitalized for over six weeks.  It was the first time we thought we were going to lose him, but he persevered and eventually pulled through.

-         - A little over ten years ago, dad got a call that a person with a donor kidney had passed and he needed to get to the hospital ASAP.  In what turned out to be his happiest hospital stay, dad’s surgery was successful and he got to spend Christmas with the greatest gift he’s ever received.  Dialysis was now a thing of the past.

-          -About two years ago, dad began to have trouble hearing in his right ear.  It was soon discovered that he had a massive, benign tumor growing on his cerebrum.  With his state of health, surgical treatment was not an option, so he underwent 39 radiation treatments.  Soon after the treatments had finished, his hearing improved once again, but his new kidney had begun to fail.  In what turned out to be the beginning of his end, dialysis treatments once again became a necessity.

-          -A more recent infection on his foot hadn’t been responding to treatments.  Intravenous antibiotics were no help as circulation problems were preventing the medicines from reaching the infected site.  A surgical bypass on his leg was ordered by his vascular doctor.  During pre-surgical testing, though, a blockage was found in his heart and a resulting angioplasty put off the vascular bypass.  The cardiac procedure was successful, and he was released from the hospital with the infected ulcer still oozing and painful on his foot.

-          -Two weeks ago, and six weeks after the angioplasty, dad was brought back in to the hospital for the original vascular bypass to help fight the infection, which had gotten so bad that he had developed tendinitis in his Achilles tendon which prevented him from walking anymore.  He had had to give up his job and his car, which crushed him.  This surgery was successful, and the infection had begun to heal.

These episodes represent only a fraction of the seemingly countless health-related issues dad has had to contend with.  Late night phone calls became all too familiar.  Every time there was a new emergency, the situation led from a dire to insignificant, a false alarm.  Dad took each case in stride, with rarely an utterance of complaint, even through two toe amputations (Though he always hated the needles!).  We became too used to these episodes, expecting the same result each time.  We’d lulled ourselves into a belief that dad was a fighter who’d always bounce back and be around for years to come.  But it wasn’t meant to be this time.

The day after dad came out of the hospital, he experienced this episode which ultimately led us to today.  Now I've skipped ahead a bit from the first part of this story, but this part of dad’s story is more pertinent to the freedom from suffering he earned today.  Having been faced with the decision we all made, we knew we had no choice.  Dad deserved no more pain. 

In the end, he passed peacefully with his wife, his six children and other significant people in his life all around him.  The room was filled with anguish, devotion, love and a sense of collective relief as George finally let go of all that pain. 

So long dad!  I love you!

It was the sixth of May…

Somebody to Love - R.I.P. Freddie Mercury 11/24/91

I work hard every day of my life

I work till I ache my bones

At the end I take home my hard earned pay all on my own

I get down on my knees

And I start to pray

Till the tears run down from my eyes

Lord, somebody, ooh, somebody

Can anybody find me, somebody to love?

Somewhere along my day today I came across a posting that marked the 23rd anniversary of the death of Queen lead singer Freddie Mercury, and had I known earlier I would've given him a Song of the Day tribute, for sure.  Rather than wait until tomorrow, though, I figured I'd mark the day...the real day...to honor someone who left us way too soon.

biography

A couple of weeks ago I posted a Flashback Friday song of Freddie and Queen with David Bowie doing Under Pressure, a great, great tune. In my search for the video, I came across a video of Queen, sans Bowie, performing the song at Wembley and Mercury played with the audience for about two minutes in his own unique way, yodeling melodies that the crowd would repeat back to him. They were eating it up and for those two minutes Freddie Mercury's greatness shone through.     

taringa

Queen is one rock band that I've always loved, from the early days of the great Bohemian Rhapsody to Another One Bites the Dust, Fat Bottomed Girls, Radio Gaga (from which Lady got her name!), and so many more.  To look back 23 years ago and think of all they might have added to their catalog had he not lost his battle with the now very manageable AIDS.  Anyway, for what it's worth, here's to you Freddie Mercury!