Karen's memorial service is on Saturday.
She had been ill for four years and as I told a friend on the phone yesterday, you know it's coming, you know it's going to happen, but still you're just not ready for it.
Okay, me. I am never ready for it. I thought I was.
And I know how cheesy this is, but you know when Debra Winger's character passes away in the movie Terms of Endearment and her mom, (Shirley McClaine), sobs to her son-in-law something like:
"It's so stupid. You think when she finally goes it will be a relief. But it isn't. It's just so hard."
And that's it for me where Karen is concerned. We knew it had spread to her bones and her lungs and not long ago her doctor told her that she could do one more round of chemo to try and buy six more months but she said no thanks. She spent the summer with a full head of hair, lounging by the pool with us girls, drinking beer, and yes, smoking cigarettes ("what the hell, why not now?") and listening to music from the '70s.
They were sad, fun afternoons. She was relaxed and soaked up the sun and it was what she wanted. But there is no sense of relief like I had expected, hoped for. It's really, really hard.
2 comments:
At least she was able to savor what time she had last. My dad was 47 when he died. The second he got the news of his illness, he quit his job and went sailing down the Pacific coast.
And though it's been 16 years, it's still really, really hard.
I'm sorry for your loss.
We seem to be walking the same path in life from time to time, huh? We can pretend for a long time, yet the void smacks us in the heart every time.
I'm not saying this well.
Blessings on her for doing it her way. She probably would have fit right in with my sister-in-law's Girl's Kick Ass Association.
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