Need a break - a long break - from Death
(And yes, Death is capitalized.)
My friend, S's, husband just called me at work to let me know she died earlier this week.
She was 44 years old and the fiercest mother I ever knew...until she imploded from the stress of being a dragon-fighter and trying to advocate for more than a decade for her twin developmentally disabled boys.
I've posted about her numerous times in this journal:
*My joy at finding someone with the same childhood memories as me, even though we didn't know each other (she even dated guys I went to high school with, she just went to the other school);
*My amusement at her dry, snarky attitude about "Prozaculas," women with disabled children who needed hard core drugs to handle their childrens' conditions;
*My pride at watching her fight battle after battle in support of her two wonderful boys;
*My envy over her until recently solid marriage despite all they had to contend with;
*And my frustration over her increasing drinking and eventual descent into full-blown alcoholism because she was too busy caring for everyone else instead of herself.
She apparently died from some sort of gastric disorder that was related, or brought on, this spring...possibly alcohol poisoning. We've been playing phone tag for the last two months, and she called me about two weeks ago...I even thought of her twice this morning.
And I feel guilty - terribly guilty - because I was glad I had missed her calls and she had missed mine, because she sounded inebriated in the messages. Now I wonder if she was just physically weak, rather than drunk, and I wish I'd gotten over my own frustration to remember my compassion for her.
In her message she said she was thinking of me and loved me, and we'd catch up soon. That's something I always valued - her ability, her huge capacity, to love. She taught me to love again, too, and although it took me years to reciprocate I loved her dearly as a friend and am glad I was finally able to say so whenever we'd hang up the phone (she'd always end with, "Love ya," even if I'd given her a piece of my mind about getting into therapy and being proactive).
Mostly, though, I feel terrible for her boys. Apparently she'd been preparing them (according to her husband) by explaining she was very sick, although no one else knew except her doctors, but at least they seem to be handling it okay because of it.
I told you - fiercest.mom.I.ever.knew. And I will miss her...once I get over the shock and anger.
My friend, S's, husband just called me at work to let me know she died earlier this week.
She was 44 years old and the fiercest mother I ever knew...until she imploded from the stress of being a dragon-fighter and trying to advocate for more than a decade for her twin developmentally disabled boys.
I've posted about her numerous times in this journal:
*My joy at finding someone with the same childhood memories as me, even though we didn't know each other (she even dated guys I went to high school with, she just went to the other school);
*My amusement at her dry, snarky attitude about "Prozaculas," women with disabled children who needed hard core drugs to handle their childrens' conditions;
*My pride at watching her fight battle after battle in support of her two wonderful boys;
*My envy over her until recently solid marriage despite all they had to contend with;
*And my frustration over her increasing drinking and eventual descent into full-blown alcoholism because she was too busy caring for everyone else instead of herself.
She apparently died from some sort of gastric disorder that was related, or brought on, this spring...possibly alcohol poisoning. We've been playing phone tag for the last two months, and she called me about two weeks ago...I even thought of her twice this morning.
And I feel guilty - terribly guilty - because I was glad I had missed her calls and she had missed mine, because she sounded inebriated in the messages. Now I wonder if she was just physically weak, rather than drunk, and I wish I'd gotten over my own frustration to remember my compassion for her.
In her message she said she was thinking of me and loved me, and we'd catch up soon. That's something I always valued - her ability, her huge capacity, to love. She taught me to love again, too, and although it took me years to reciprocate I loved her dearly as a friend and am glad I was finally able to say so whenever we'd hang up the phone (she'd always end with, "Love ya," even if I'd given her a piece of my mind about getting into therapy and being proactive).
Mostly, though, I feel terrible for her boys. Apparently she'd been preparing them (according to her husband) by explaining she was very sick, although no one else knew except her doctors, but at least they seem to be handling it okay because of it.
I told you - fiercest.mom.I.ever.knew. And I will miss her...once I get over the shock and anger.