Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Day 294: There will be an answer, let it be.

All families go through rough spots.
My family seems to be going through a big one now.
These are strange days.
It’s hard to be creative in my writing when Life itself becomes a major character in this narrative I call a blog:
My dad, who has been on long-term disability, put out his back again and is in a lot of pain.
My brother just had major dental surgery that involved his jaw and is recovering.
My sister’s husband, lost his father to cancer this morning at the hospital and is about to lose his mother to cancer tonight.  Can you believe those odds? We are looking at a double funeral this weekend.
I spent the entire day in a different hospital’s ER getting poked and prodded by 4 different neurologists.
They are all trying to come to a conclusion as to what is causing these episodes of left-sided numbness.
One CT scan down, and 1 EEG and yet another MRI to go later in the week.
(Who knew one brain could be so photogenic in one lifetime?)
They sent me home and said if I can’t speak or lose feeling in a limb, to go back right away.
How’s that for reassuring?
My poor mom is rushing in between hospitals and came by my place to coerce me to stay with them.
So here I am, at 'Hotel Mom and Dad', hanging out with my niece and nephew and trying to get them to sleep instead of going to the much anticipated Paul McCartney show.
(I gave the tickets to my old high-school friend, Angela, who I grew up listening to the Beatles with).
I just spent the last half hour delicately explaining death in a way that a six year old and a five year old can digest.
I decided to tell them a bedtime story about an old couple who were ready to get their angel wings.
They put two and two together.
Niece: Why do grandma and grandpa need to get their wings now?
Me: Well, they probably wanted to get their wings at the same time, to always be together.
Niece: But how do the angel wings get them up to heaven? Do they use an elevator?
Me: No. I think they close their eyes and make a really strong wish with their hearts to get there.
Niece: But I don’t want them to go. I’m going to miss them.
Me: I know sweetie, but now they will always be with you.  Their angel wings help them to fly into your heart whenever you need them.
Nephew:  Zia, are they almost a hundred years old?
Me: Well, they are pretty old and their bodies got sick. They are tired and ready to become angels so they can always protect you. Any other questions?
Niece: No.
Nephew: No.
Me: OK. Good night. I love you.


And to you, dear friends: Good night. I love you, too. Just because it's always better to say so.

2 comments:

  1. Oh, my dear Tanya. Of all the times for me to fall behind in reading your blog, which I do ALL the time. But I've missed this week, and have just read the last three posts. My heart is in my throat.

    I'm sorry for your sister and brother-in-law. I simply can't imagine.

    I hope your brother heals quickly, too. And that your parents are getting through all of this okay.

    I am worried for you too, dear. Numbness? Tests? I hope you keep us posted - and I am sending you every good vibe I can. For what little it's worth, I'm thinking of you.

    What you said to the kids, I don't think I've ever heard that described more beautifully. "Their angel wings help them to fly into your heart whenever you need them." What a gift you are to your family.

    Love you, friend. XO

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  2. Thanks, Ralph. I'm sure all will be well. :-)

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