Wednesday, September 14, 2011

On how fragile we are



It's been a long time since I last blogged, and I wish I had a happier post to place here today, but I was devastated with the news on Gabby's death. For those not around it, this 5yold sweet little girl fought for months against a very aggressive brain tumor, suffered like hell, and lost her battle last Sunday. I was following up her story, in touch with them, and like so many others, tried to believe that this time something would happen and turn this sad time a happy one. Not happening. What hugely took off my balance was to see such a little kid facing what my big sister had. I just couldn't understand how strong her little body and soul were all this time, because I know well how awfully violent this kind of tumor is. Maybe it was masochistic to keep reading about her, like reliving the worst time of my life, but I just couldn't help, that's what a friend does. Again, I kinda wanted to believe it would be different this time, even though deep inside I knew how it would end.

Reading Gabby's dad's poignant post on her illness and death drained my strength and my energy, and brought that old fear we moms all have. What if it was my kid? How to endure this unbelievable, unbearable pain? I'm the kind of person who treasure every moment I have with my little witch. I was too lucky to have a son that, even after the end of my informal marriage, has never been less than awesome, and emotionally & physically healthy. He's never been a kid to throw tantrums, never been spoiled (very loved but never spoiled), always sweet, smart, funny - of course, full of energy and rarely able of standing still, thank the gods. A really good child. I just can't phantom the idea of losing him in any way. But worse, to go through what these parents have, to watch my child slowly lose his life, day after day. It's too terrifying just to allow a tiny thought about it cross my mind, so it's blocked.

When my sister was diagnosed with this aggressive brain tumor, the time between this and her death was too fast, and too slow. Too fast to see how invasive and hungry the cancer beast was, and too slow to watch her daily pain, to watch the daily little details that haunt me till today. I don't know how my mother survived that. For me, it was the worst, the most painful time I had to live, with too many memories before and after that, that are too hard to tell and to forget. She was my sister, and that time was a haunting tattoo in my soul. But with a kid? Your own blood? No way.

I deeply hope someday Gabby's parents can live with this pain without having it ruining their lives like it must be doing right now. I hope they can breathe again.

What we learn is the obvious and so easily forgotten, and that John reminded us:

"Hug your kids

Love your kids

Believe in your kids

Never take them for granted, they could be gone tomorrow or five minutes from now, never forget that. Even years after this, let gabby have taught you that, work , money, status. None of that is important family is. Go hug someone right now."

Never take anyone for granted, appreciate them, and give them the right attention and love, don't wait for tomorrow, for the next minute, do it now. Love, say it out loud to the ones you care about, express your love, your affection. Cherish the moments you have, be thankful for having your kids, your loved relatives and friends in good health. You never know. Life is too short for drama, and the small circle of love in life should be sensed at its fullest, with all your heart.

Sorry for this venting (I know I don't need to say sorry for writing what I want in my own blog, but all of you who follow this page know what I mean). It was stuck into my throat. Going right now to kiss my sleepy little witch's face.

11 comentários:

Aine said...

So sad. Yes we are so fragile, but one thing I learned from death was to "live it up" - so live in such a way that I would not have any regrets. I learned too that it is often what you DON'T do that you regret more than what you do, so yes, never forget to show others love, to enjoy life. Try to think of the good happy memories of your sister. I'm sure she'd like that.

Suzie Ridler said...

That is so very sad and I am sorry you went through that too. I also lost a sibling to the same kind of cancer, it is so cruel. Life is so fragile.

Linda in New Mexico said...

I followed in silence. I couldn't say anything. Like you, after watching cancer take my brother and my mother....I had nothing to offer but my silent hope. Only silence again for me. Be Well my friend. Linda

petoskystone said...

swiftest journey for gabby!

Fisher of men said...

Howdy, My name is Lou. I came across your blog while surfing google search. I must say I enjoyed the reading. And plan to visit more often.

You did great with hitting the nail right on the head with some of the points you made.

Louie~
http://fisherman209.blogspot.com

Powell River Books said...

It often takes a loss to make us appreciate what we have. I can't imagine how hard that was for you or Gabby's family. - Margy

Kallan said...

(((((((Nydia)))))

Lilac Wolf (Angie or Angela) said...

*hugs* I know how you feel. I found my ex after years of not talking and his little girl has severe heart problems and a genetic disorder that makes other things an issue. Reading about his girl makes me snuggle mine a little tighter, a little more often and give thanks every day for their health.

Naukishtae said...

Dearest Sister..

You my Sister, are so wise, so very compasionate.. it is always painful for us to read about another poor soul who is taken by this insidious disease.. as empaths, we feel the pain of others.. it is a hard thing.. but what it allows us to do, is to know how to talk to those who survive in a family that is suffering.. we have walked where they walk, we have felt what they feel.. we are then blessed with the knowlege of how to speak to them and how to make the smoke, and do the offerings, that the Goddess may ease their pain.. we who only know what they feel, can give that comfort, to ease their journey..

Sometimes there is no way to speak to those who suffer.. but our hearts, when words fail us, speak for us, in prayers, to ease those who are to walk beyond that veil.. we who are standing between the light and the darkness.. we are here to light their path and take their hand and lead them on their path.. remember, life is not only lived on this plain of existance, but goes on after we leave here.. a new and joyes life awaits each one as they pass through that veil.. it is the survivors, that we now must burn candles and make smoke for.. it is their peace that we now seek...

You little Sister.. are so blessed.. i hear your tears for your sister, and Gabby.. each one who has added to this chain of blessing for little Gabby's family, will be blessed, what we give.. comes back to us..

You are one of the most caring, loving Souls, that i have ever met..

Be Blessed Nydia, and Little Witch too

Naukishtae

Steph said...

So sorry for the reopened pain, and the loss of this little girl.

As for what you would do, I wonder the same. I see parents weekly/monthly who face this and it's the ones with other children (and sometimes spouses) who find ways to move on. It's the single parents of only children I wonder about. As one myself I knew last year that if leukemia had taken my sweet Pixie last year I'd have laid down and died. Thankfully she is through the worst and recovering beautifully. I send my energies, love and strength your way.

Patty said...

So sorry to hear this story. Life is so precious, and our children even more so. Cancer is one of those unfair things that we will never understand. I can only send a wish for peace for all those it has touched.