Dear Ellen
I went to Chicago last weekend, city of big memories. It was. as all these "firsts" are, a bittersweet time. I spent our anniversary at the art show and no, it wasn't the same without you. I was surrounded by wonderful, sweet friends, my art family who took good care of me, but all of us missed you. Betsy, Danielle and I spent the evening over an impromptu dinner and a lovely bottle of wine, trying to make sense of the world with our "therapy". It helped, but I don't think we figured out the point of our existance on this planet, which is what I was really hoping for...
I suppose it's common for people who have experienced a loss to question the laws of the universe. Maybe it's because we have plenty of time to think about it now. Plenty of time to wonder about purpose. Plenty of time to ponder the definition of God. Plenty of time in a 16 hour drive from Chicago to New Orleans. Do you think it's because we want to make sense of it out of curiosity or fear? Will I understand it all when I leave this world? What's the point? I've always had this notion we are here to conquer our fears, to learn a particular lesson and when we have the puzzle solved we are whisked away somewhere to enjoy our success. I think I witnessed this in you during the course of your illness. No, I don't know what your lesson was, but I do believe it culminated in knowing what deep love is. I could see it in your eyes as you came closer to dying. There was an acceptance, a knowing, as though you had found the answer to your own questions. One of the last times I think you recognized me, it was only for short moments, you held my hand tightly, you looked at me clearly and smiled with such love. It said everything. Not so much about me, although I felt it too, but it said everything about your own peace. It did affirm my belief in something beyond this existance.
That's all I know for sure. The rest is still a mystery. No matter how many miles I drive, no matter how many impromtu therapy sessions I have. I'm not supposed to know the answers yet. I am hoping, when I get whisked away myself, we can get together and talk about all these things. Maybe clean up some unresolved corners. Maybe enjoy some long, rich, and all knowing laughter.
I'm looking forward to it.
Much love,
cathy
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Cathy and Ellen in Lafayette, Louisiana, November 2009.
Ellen Cancienne & Cathy Rose
From left: Ellen, sister Beth, Cathy, sister Carol
A diary of living with a brain tumor.
Two Lucky Girls
Cathy and Ellen in Lafayette, Louisiana, November 2009.
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Ellen & Cathy
Ellen Cancienne & Cathy Rose
Sisters
From left: Ellen, sister Beth, Cathy, sister Carol
About Ellen
On Sunday, July 13, 2008 I went to the emergency room suffering from a debilitating migraine headache. A CAT scan revealed a brain mass that subsequently was diagnosed as a stage IV glioblastoma multiforme. My life and the lives of my family and close friends have forever changed since that evening. This blog is an attempt to deal with those changes and share the highs and lows of what it is like to deal with the path my life has taken. I cannot explain what has happened, sometimes things happen which defy explanations. This is one of those things.
1 comment:
dearest aunt cathy.
its been ages since i last saw you and ellen. my baby is in bed and i finally found a quiet moment to sit down and read your blog postings since ellen passed away. they are beautiful. and hopeful. my wish is that you find comfort in posting your thoughts...as much as i am sure we all find comfort in reading them. i remember ellen's laugh. i can hear it in my head. i see her curled up in a big chair at diane's after shawn's wedding. i see her smile. how lovely. xo
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