Glitter Hugs
Hello, all. I'm glad to have you here!
Though it's a beautiful morning, I'm filled with sadness. I have a friend I've known for many years--who's also on our gish team--who told us last night she's going into hospice. I knew she was going to die, and soon-ish, but I really thought she'd have a couple more good months first. She has an amazing attitude about it, so accepting and graceful, and frankly, I'm relieved and happy for her that she doesn't have to go through months of suffering, knowing the end result will be the same (she has stage 4 stomach cancer), but ... jeez.
This is a girl who LOVED life. She wanted it so bad. I was down there to visit two weeks ago--two weeks! Her first words to us walking in the door were, "Do I look like a dying girl?" and I had to say honestly no, she didn't. She was yellow with jaundice, but other than that, she looked ... fine. And FELT relatively fine. At the time, she was determined to fight the cancer with all her might.
"I want to LIVE!" she told me passionately. "I want to write." She always called herself a writer, but as far as I can tell didn't end up doing much actual writing, due to blocks or lack of self-confidence or inspiration. I think she assumed there would always be the future ... and then suddenly she was out of future. It broke my heart to hear her say it. (I did, after all, kind of nuke my own life at one point to rearrange it so that I could write and make music, because I was so afraid of dying before I got a chance; thus, I could not possibly understand her feelings more vividly.) I really hoped, if nothing else, she would get a couple of months of feeling good and healthy first to get to do some writing and cross that off her bucket list. She inspired many others in their writing journeys, including me. Seems she should have gotten the opportunity to have that for herself, as well.
Another thing she said that really got me was, in a very accepting way, "This is not how I pictured my life going." She lived on dreams and magical thinking and an assumption that one could shape one's life to one's own specifications, upon which she based her belief she could overcome stage 4 cancer, so I really didn't think she would be able to suddenly turn around and accept her imminent death so gracefully, but she did. Both her fight and her acceptance are mind-boggling and inspiring and beautiful.
Seriously, if you have to die of cancer, I figure feeling fine up until the day you find out about it, and even for weeks afterward (she had no pain until yesterday), and then going down very quickly, is about the best way it can happen, especially showered with love by her gajillion friends, as she fortunately has been. She really seems to feel all right and good about it, and she doesn't want people to be sad, so I'm trying to feel okay about it, too, but there's just so much sadness.
She left an indelible impression on this world. Truly, truly, no one who met her will ever forget her. Very large, with bright red hair and a penchant for talking about private things in an outside voice, she was impossible to miss. She would strike up a conversation with anyone anywhere, and though she never seemed to quite realize it, I know that in among the people who rolled their eyes at her nerdiness or cringed at her tmi, there were many who were moved and inspired by meeting her and surely look back on it as a major event in their lives.
She wanted life to be magical, and so she became magical. She loved rainbows and unicorns and purple, she wanted to spread that magical feeling wherever she went, and sure enough, I expect I will always imagine her next incarnation as a purple-glitter-showering fairy (purple and glitter being her two favorite things), as you can see in this video from gishwhes last year. She told me those beautiful wings are mine now. <3 <3
She wants us to visit her tomorrow, so we shall, if her schedule allows it. (Who'da thunk dying would be so busy? But not only does she have to transfer to hospice, but I think many people want to see her before the end; she said today is 'booked.') The way she's talking, I don't know if she'll make it 'til then, so I'm glad at least we saw her recently, and perhaps more importantly, had a long facebook conversation last night, reminding her of all the memories we share, revisiting all the things we're grateful for about having been her friend, and telling her the countless things that will make us think of her every time we see them. (There are so, so many.)
Every time a friend of mine dies, I think, "They're missing all the fun." I've not enjoyed life much, but there really is so much fun to be had. It's an incredibly beautiful morning. It was a beautiful dawn. The bunnies are playing on the lawn. It rained last night, and s_c and I took a walk in the dark. There's wonderful t.v. and movies, writing to do and read, friends to see, things and places and people and events to experience. Maybe the world seems to be falling apart, but we're still sane around fandom here on lj, still creating art, still being kind to one another, still mooning over hot guys and a great show. There's still so much good in the world.
I'm grateful for you all and for this goodness. May you all have a beautiful day, and write all the words you ever wanted to.
Though it's a beautiful morning, I'm filled with sadness. I have a friend I've known for many years--who's also on our gish team--who told us last night she's going into hospice. I knew she was going to die, and soon-ish, but I really thought she'd have a couple more good months first. She has an amazing attitude about it, so accepting and graceful, and frankly, I'm relieved and happy for her that she doesn't have to go through months of suffering, knowing the end result will be the same (she has stage 4 stomach cancer), but ... jeez.
This is a girl who LOVED life. She wanted it so bad. I was down there to visit two weeks ago--two weeks! Her first words to us walking in the door were, "Do I look like a dying girl?" and I had to say honestly no, she didn't. She was yellow with jaundice, but other than that, she looked ... fine. And FELT relatively fine. At the time, she was determined to fight the cancer with all her might.
"I want to LIVE!" she told me passionately. "I want to write." She always called herself a writer, but as far as I can tell didn't end up doing much actual writing, due to blocks or lack of self-confidence or inspiration. I think she assumed there would always be the future ... and then suddenly she was out of future. It broke my heart to hear her say it. (I did, after all, kind of nuke my own life at one point to rearrange it so that I could write and make music, because I was so afraid of dying before I got a chance; thus, I could not possibly understand her feelings more vividly.) I really hoped, if nothing else, she would get a couple of months of feeling good and healthy first to get to do some writing and cross that off her bucket list. She inspired many others in their writing journeys, including me. Seems she should have gotten the opportunity to have that for herself, as well.
Another thing she said that really got me was, in a very accepting way, "This is not how I pictured my life going." She lived on dreams and magical thinking and an assumption that one could shape one's life to one's own specifications, upon which she based her belief she could overcome stage 4 cancer, so I really didn't think she would be able to suddenly turn around and accept her imminent death so gracefully, but she did. Both her fight and her acceptance are mind-boggling and inspiring and beautiful.
Seriously, if you have to die of cancer, I figure feeling fine up until the day you find out about it, and even for weeks afterward (she had no pain until yesterday), and then going down very quickly, is about the best way it can happen, especially showered with love by her gajillion friends, as she fortunately has been. She really seems to feel all right and good about it, and she doesn't want people to be sad, so I'm trying to feel okay about it, too, but there's just so much sadness.
She left an indelible impression on this world. Truly, truly, no one who met her will ever forget her. Very large, with bright red hair and a penchant for talking about private things in an outside voice, she was impossible to miss. She would strike up a conversation with anyone anywhere, and though she never seemed to quite realize it, I know that in among the people who rolled their eyes at her nerdiness or cringed at her tmi, there were many who were moved and inspired by meeting her and surely look back on it as a major event in their lives.
She wanted life to be magical, and so she became magical. She loved rainbows and unicorns and purple, she wanted to spread that magical feeling wherever she went, and sure enough, I expect I will always imagine her next incarnation as a purple-glitter-showering fairy (purple and glitter being her two favorite things), as you can see in this video from gishwhes last year. She told me those beautiful wings are mine now. <3 <3
She wants us to visit her tomorrow, so we shall, if her schedule allows it. (Who'da thunk dying would be so busy? But not only does she have to transfer to hospice, but I think many people want to see her before the end; she said today is 'booked.') The way she's talking, I don't know if she'll make it 'til then, so I'm glad at least we saw her recently, and perhaps more importantly, had a long facebook conversation last night, reminding her of all the memories we share, revisiting all the things we're grateful for about having been her friend, and telling her the countless things that will make us think of her every time we see them. (There are so, so many.)
Every time a friend of mine dies, I think, "They're missing all the fun." I've not enjoyed life much, but there really is so much fun to be had. It's an incredibly beautiful morning. It was a beautiful dawn. The bunnies are playing on the lawn. It rained last night, and s_c and I took a walk in the dark. There's wonderful t.v. and movies, writing to do and read, friends to see, things and places and people and events to experience. Maybe the world seems to be falling apart, but we're still sane around fandom here on lj, still creating art, still being kind to one another, still mooning over hot guys and a great show. There's still so much good in the world.
I'm grateful for you all and for this goodness. May you all have a beautiful day, and write all the words you ever wanted to.