2012 – The Year the World Didn’t End
It’s
ten-after-three in the afternoon, December 29th, 2012 and I am
contemplating the conclusion of another year.
So much has happened in just the last few months that it almost seems like
the first part of the year didn't happen.
All this year there had been talk of the great Mayan Apocalypse of
12.21.12 – a day that actually slipped by almost unnoticed in the end. But so much has changed that maybe in a way
my world really did end and I am just now coming to terms with just how
different life is. I entered
twenty-twelve never thinking I would be here right now. Plans were in place for me to graduate with
my Bachelor’s degree last May, our finances while decidedly more touch-and-go
then when Erhard was alive seemed to be holding together, and my brother Steve
and I embarked on a whirlwind of outings that brought us closer together and me
some real measure of comfort as I learned to deal with life as a widow.
And
then September happened and everything just fell apart. Steve became seriously ill on my birthday
(September 9th) and entered the intensive care unit the next
morning. Within the span of a
week-and-a-half I was reinstated as his power-of-attorney-for-health-care and I
had to make the fatal and horrific decision to stop life support and let him go…
while still in shock I reached out to my sister-in-law just at the moment she
was calling me to let me know that her brother (and my brother-in-law) Mike had
died suddenly four days after Steve.
That had to be the most surreal conversation I have ever had in my life –
the two of us trying to come to terms with the fact that BOTH our brothers were
suddenly gone.
School
became a blur, even as I had made the decision to graduate in December
(something that didn’t happen) and scraping together the money for my brother’s
final expenses and some large expenses coming due at the same time wiped out
every extra cent I had without the possibility of any more self-generated
income. I suddenly became a dependent
again – something I can’t begin to describe.
Ever since then I have lived in the margins of my mind – equal parts
focused and determined and desperate and grief-stricken. October and November blended into each other,
the holidays came and while there were moments of great contentment and joy a
part of me felt out-of-sync and emotionally absent. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew there
were solutions to be divined and made tangible but they were always elusively
just out-of-reach. I am left feeling
helpless and free-floating in some abysmal mire waiting for the mental fog to
clear even as I reach for just about any substance to keep my mind
altered.
Now
as the clock ticks off the last hours of the year I am again faced with new
situations that I would truthfully just rather not deal with but for which
there is no other choice but for me to act in a responsible manner. Early next month my sister, Angela will
undergo eye surgery to restore her vision.
The concept of Angie as blind and frail at 49 years old never pinged my
radar but as of this Thanksgiving reality came home when she came for dinner
and it was obvious that her health had taken a serious downward turn. The prospect of one more caregiving role is
almost too much for me to contemplate but here I am.
If
I should dare look away from this situation and focus on my own life I am left contemplating
the fact that my car is now seriously on the fritz – needing both a new
thermostat and tires. I am so far behind
in my schoolwork I have decided to not enroll in any more classes until I can
complete the legion of incompletes currently on my transcript, even though that
means I will have no health insurance and only six months before the first of
my student loans need to be factored into my expenses. For the first time since
Erhard’s death not a single bill has been paid this month and I am not sure
that there is enough anywhere to cover the cost, despite the fact that both
kids and renteds have stepped up to fill the gap. I can’t even bring myself to gather up the
bills although I know instinctively that I will have to have this done by
Monday.
Yet
as I looked around this morning after waking up hours later than usual because
I was unable to sleep until past seven-this-morning I felt a security and
contentment as I gazed around my cluttered, mismatched home and realized that I
loved this place and my life and I had to ultimately prove that no, the world
really didn’t end.
I
know that I face months of therapy and assistance before my equilibrium returns
completely but for right now, this moment, I am okay. I am safe within the cocoon of a loving,
large, raucous family and extended family and that none of us are willing to
watch the others sink. Sitting at my
feet is a mixed-breed puppy too large to be recognized as the baby he still is,
offering me his warmth and comfort and unconditional love. The house is dark yet the lights on the
Christmas tree twinkle brightly just a room away reminding me of the riotous
mix of colors and styles that make up the life and the living space I
occupy. I have just gotten up and lit
the candles in the foyer that keep watch over the memorial to my mother,
brother, and husband. A little less
darkness in a space that is far more used to light than gloom.
While
far from gourmet there is food in the cabinets for human and critter alike
(both dog and six-cats worth). Beyond my melancholy I know there is still joy
and love enough for me and everyone I care about… even if reaching it is more laborious
than I would like. I am content with my
humanity, my spirituality, even my weight – which curiously hasn't changed much
in the three months I have stepped away from daily measuring and recording – a small
tidbit of trivia that actually makes me quite proud. I am not where I want to be but where I am is
alright for now.
I
have not given up on the idea and practice of interdependency even as I wrestle
my ego into submission whenever I have to ask one of the guys for something –
even something small. I have a role to
play in this world and something to contribute even if right now I don’t know
exactly what that is… and somehow, in some strange weird bohemian kind-of-way
that knowledge comforts me. Life is
broken but repairable. Just like the
nooks and crannies and garage spaces I have cleaned out of late I can clean out
the clutter of my loneliness and despair and make room again for contentment. Routine activities bring me solace. The simple acts of life maintenance remind me
that I am really still alive – that once again, the world really didn't end.
I
am not sure exactly what 2013 holds for any of us – there is always the hope
that it will somehow be better than what came before, but no guarantees come
with living this real life. If I could
wave a magic wand over my world I would enjoin the spirits of the universe to
bring us safely back here twelve months from now better than we ever were in
the past – that all of us will find 2013 a cherished year. But I have no magic, only a ditch-digger’s shovel
resourceful enough to find serendipity alive and well after the sweat and tears
dry.
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