Why do we go to Funerals?

Being raised in the house with a Dad who is a church organist who is a priest's kid (PK, as they are known) himself in a house that was about 300 steps from the front door of our church we knew the in’s and out’s of church rules pretty well. Little did I know, that the church rules I was raised with were not the same as everyone else’s, but that is a conversation for another day. Starting at a very young age I went to funerals because I was told. Mostly I was not expected to attend unless it was a relative or someone I knew well who had died. The first one I was expected to attend was for Emma. I asked not to go, but my memory says my mother told me I had no choice but to go. Emma was 9, I was perhaps 13 and she was my friend. I was shattered when she died, and I hated every second of her funeral for a lot of reasons and I didn’t quite understand the loud party that was held afterward. I only went because I was told.

I attended a funeral at St James Church today for Heather, the young lady I mentioned in a previous post. 33 years old, diagnosed with a horrible cancer that began much the same as mine did from what I have heard. I didn’t know her well. I thought of her often as I learned news of whether her treatments were effective or not. Every time I saw her parents around town when they were not away visiting Heather I was eager to ask questions, but always regretted my eagerness when I saw the look in their eyes as they went to answer. Each time I saw them the news got worse. I felt guilty, but hoped that somehow by asking the news might get better. Did I hope Heather would get better so her lovely parents would never have to answer the annoying “How is she?” questions ever again. Yes. Did I hope Heather would get better so I could stop being fearful for myself and my cancer outcome? Perhaps.

Losing a child is a heartbreak I hope to never completely understand. That statement is selfish that I know, but being selfish is a something I struggle daily to explain to myself.
I felt selfish about being there today. Part of me wonders why I went.

Why do we go to funerals? I was raised to believe that you go to support the living through a difficult day. You go to celebrate the life of the person who has died. Sometimes you go because you are told….

So, I went today to support the parents, her partner and her siblings

Heather’s parents were a part of my life many times every week in and out of church and school. The mother whose Girl Guide Leader voice will be forever in my head when I pitch a tent, or tie a reef knot or build a fire. The father whose stern teacher voice was often heard in the halls of our high school.. (and the totally different man’s voice I was privileged to know in years of singing in my Dad’s choir together).
The “children” may not have many memories of me, but between Guide outings, babysitting them and seeing them at church on Sundays I watched them all grow up.
I briefly met Heather’s steadfast partner who stood by her through her cancer trials and broke down while talking to him. There is a bond I feel with cancer patients that is inexplicable that should be obvious. But anyone who can stand by a cancer patient and help them through the process of living through treatments and beyond has my lifelong respect. There are few jobs harder in the world. Being the patient is the simple part.

I went for all of them.

Most of the Funerals I have attended have been at St James Church. It was the church I grew up in, it was the place I attended service after service, Guide meetings and choir rehearsals and teenage dances and youth group events, sleepovers, dinners and on and on. I was there at least 3 times a week from my earliest memory until I left for college. There are a lot of ghosts in those rooms, and a lot of memories…. It is the place I had it all, it is the place I lost a lot…

One of the things that will always be painful in being at St James is being there when my father plays music there. You see, I was young… 9 I think when his employment ended there. Until recently I don’t think I really understood how deeply that situation must have affected me. I have always known that hearing Daddy play at St James and other church situations made me cry, but didn’t really know why…. Still not totally sure…

So today, at Heather’s funeral I purposely chose not to sit with my Dad. The building, the people, Heather dying from the same disease I have… I knew hearing him sing and stuff would make it almost impossible… Without knowing the layout of the church (it changes every season) I ended up not only sitting near the choir, but sitting a few rows behind my Dad, near a piano. I knew he was playing the recessional on the organ, but I figured I would handle that.
I wept a little during the poems and kind words, I cried some during the hymns… then Daddy started moving around after communion talking to the organist and I wasn’t sure why. Then he sat at the piano, a few feet from me. Turns out he played the piano as part of one of the last hymns. The piece was one I had sung at our local church youth camp. The camp Heather and I both attended years apart from each other (unbeknownst to me until I heard a camp story in the homily)



You shall cross the barren desert,
but you shall not die of thirst.
You shall wander far in safety,
though you do not know the way.

You shall speak your words in foreign lands,
and all will understand,
You shall see the face of God and live.

Be not afraid,
I go before you always,
Come follow Me,
and I will give you rest.

Blessed are your poor,
for the Kingdom shall be theirs.
Blest are you that weep and mourn,
for one day you shall laugh.

And if wicked men insult and hate you, all because of Me,
blessed, blessed are you!

Be not afraid,
I go before you always,
Come follow Me,
and I will give you rest.


If you pass through raging waters
in the sea, you shall not drown.
If you walk amidst the burning flames,
you shall not be harmed.

If you stand before the power of hell
and death is at your side,
know that I am with you, through it all

Be not afraid,
I go before you always,
Come follow Me,
and I will give you rest.



As you can imagine this finished me, I was gutted. The place, the people the music. My Dad playing 5 feet in front of me, the situation ….I had to stifle my sobbing… just to keep singing ( I have a thing about forcing myself to sing through tears, long story) I felt so selfish and caught up in my own grief and fear, my own history and baggage. I shouldn’t be feeling all this stuff at someone else’s funeral. Sitting alone, in that familiar place in a room full of people I knew, but few of them my friends I wondered if I should be there at all. Why was I there? I didn’t really know her. Some people asked why I was there, how I knew her… All I could tell myself is that I knew for some reason I was supposed to be there. I never thought to not go.

I went to support the living.
I went to celebrate the life of Heather.

I went… because I was told.

Heather

Someone I know died from Breast cancer this weekend. I didn't know her well.
Her dad sat across from me in choir practice and her mom was my Girl Guide leader. My other Girl Guide Leader was her Godmother. I babysat her when she was young which means she is 5 or so years younger than I am...
She got sick before I did, and if I recall correctly they found metastasized cancer in her brain soon after her diagnosis. Mets doesn't ever look good, but brain mets is one of the worst from what I understand.
Her parents have been back and forth across the country many times to be with her through the process of surviving treatment and the process of dying. The look in their eyes broke my heart when I saw them over the last year. Broke my heart and made me wish this wasn't happening to them... or anyone else. Part of me felt so terribly guilty that I am doing ok so far and she wasn't. The old " I wish the floor would suck me up ..."rather than look in their eyes kind of feeling.
I get that survivors guilt is a very real thing, and this is not the first time I have felt it.

There are no answers as to why her (or anyone else) and not me. I guess the only thing I can only keep wishing is that things can be different ... soon... for the people who are getting diagnosed in the future, for the people who have mets now...
for me.
Cancer Sucks... I did not know Heather well, but I thought about her everyday... and I will be at her funeral trying to remember not to ask God "Why not me?".

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had to post this.... alligators... yup!

So tonight I read this... it is written by a woman ( who I do not know FYI) on my fave Breast Cancer support site who has Stage 4 metastasized breast cancer. That means her breast cancer has spread to another part of her body: this is generally considered incurable.

She wrote:
Spent some time at the SYC Friday night with my loyal sidekick. We ran into a woman down there whom I adore...a true LADY in every sense of the word...someone I aspire to be like when I "grow up". And this woman said to me, "The thing that amazes me is every time I see you, you are smiling-and genuinely smiling." I said "That's because when everyone sees me, I'm not wrestling alligators...let me explain..."

Eighteen months ago I received the mind boggling news that I had been chosen to wrestle alligators. I have no formal training in wrestling alligators, had never studied the technique, and--let's face it--was often chosen last in gym when picking teams. Still, the telegram came and wrestling alligators it was. My life continued on the same course, except for periodically I would have to excuse myself from the norm, leave the room, and wrestle alligators. My friends and family are not allowed to come watch my matches, and I try to tell them about them, but the words are often hard to come by.
Going for monthly IVs which render me on the sick couch is difficult. Going for scans every three months to monitor the beast is excruciating... and getting harder and harder each time. I cannot even begin to describe the fear and anxiety that accompanies a late-stage cancer diagnosis... yet, I continue to try.
People look at me funny when I try to explain that I wrestle alligators on the side...surely I must be joking...I look too good (too healthy) to be serious. I don't APPEAR as though I've just returned from a death defying match. Still, if you look a little closer, I am somewhat disheveled, move a little slower, and the sparkle is sometimes a bit duller than it used to be.

I try to remember with everyone I encounter, that we all have our alligators to wrestle. My hope is that one day I'll be standing with my fellow Hot Cancer Babes at a huge yard sale...a yard sale jampacked with alligator shoes, belts, handbags, boots, etc. Until that day, we will all continue to hold hands and get back out
there in the ring.


So, my fellow bloggy readers, I hope that this rang true for you somehow.... or helped you understand a little. For me, it reminded me that given the cancer I got and how I feel right now... today, I am still one of the lucky ones.

Back in the Cancer Centre for my tri-weekly visit

The IV is in. After today I have had 12 Herceptin doses with only 6 more to go. No blood today, just the IV poke… a little painful but no big deal. The piano player in the lounge area was playing depressing music again; there’s nothing like a little Danny Boy with your cancer treatment!

I have so much to write about both here and in my other blog, but I got really sick last week with a devil of a cold/ flu thing which is still hanging around. I was eyeing that souvenir bottle of Neupagen (the white blood cell booster) I kept after my last chemo, hoping for something to boost this immune system. Instead I downed tons of my Monavie, lots of extra VitC and some elderberry juice.

I started on a new daily thing of drinking an apple cider vinegar cocktail which has helped with the illness too. Two teaspoons of Organic ACV, 1teaspoon of local honey (local is best to combat pollen allergies) and lot of water in a glass. Yesterday I added some fresh lemon juice which made it extra tart. Sucking honey through a straw is not easy; I have to juggle the recipe a bit. It is supposed to help with the potassium loss from drinking coffee, so I drink one or two a day.

This week I am going to get my first pedicure since last fall when a lot of my toenails fell out from chemo. I just realized the other day that my fingers are no longer numb either. Not sure when that stopped. This past Wednesday or Thursday was the one year anniversary of my first chemo, and the one year mark of the beginning of the group of women that I hang out with over at breastcancer.org. It’s funny you know, all these anniversaries. The further away I get from active treatment the better I feel, but somehow it seems almost scarier. Now I get to walk amongst the “normals” as if nothing is different about me. I try to go into social things and not talk about cancer all the time but it’s hard. Last week I was at a party, but only a few of us there knew about my cancer. Until one of the people in the know talked about my hair coming back, which took a few minutes for me to realize how it must have seemed like an odd comment to someone listening in. Imagine hearing.. oh your hair is coming back in so nicely..... and wondering what the heck to say or do if you don't know the story.

Then there is the issue of me being a magnet for cancer patients coming into the store to talk about cancer. I am happy to do it, but man 3 cancer talks in a day certainly messes with a work schedule. I am trying to learn how to get more done in a day with a schedule and goal setting and such. I am not good at being organized, and I don’t really like it either. Since the store is so slow I have no choice but to maximize the staff hours and my time and that takes planning. The store is so slow I am beginning to wonder how much longer I will be able to keep the doors open. My fear of rejection and lack of organization makes it even harder to push people to buy. There are only so many ways you can present a sale. Let me know if you have any brilliant marketing ideas! I am open to anything!

My herceptin is done, I am off!

sick and not sick

Last week I went to the doctor for a bunch of things. None of them cancer related. How strange!
And now for something completely different? My doctor actually talked to me like he knew who I was. Since day 1 it was my family doctor who has taken better care of me than anyone else.
Today I have a terrible flu/cold bug, headache, body ache, nausea etc. I am whacked out on (pain and cold) meds and napping all the time. Remind you of anything? The funny thing is today( or maybe tomorrow, I have to look it up) is the first anniversary of my first chemo. The physical feeling of flu is actually quite similar to the symptoms of chemo. Gratefully, the horrible side effects are not here.

As you can imagine, trying to run the store while sick at home is not easy. I had to either close the store or call my assistant in from a day off. Luckily today my staff agreed to sacrifice his day off. We have never been able to afford to have an extra trained person on staff so if I am sick and my assistant is committed elsewhere we have to be closed. That is the only option. Tomorrow we'll have to see what happens.
The recession is hurting the store enough, we certainly cannot afford to close the store just for illness. We are lucky to still be open.
This week we get to work on a project planning our presence at the Busker festival. Unfortunately that is the same weekend I am hoping to attend the 20th class reunion of my college class at Middlebury College in Vermont. None of my classmates have seen me since my surgery and chemo. I really want to be there. Since we have no backup staff doing festivals at the best of times is not easy. We bring in at least 5 extra people to help us work the almost 30 hours that the festival needs to make it happen. We managed to get the store and all the festivals through last summer with me in chemo. I made an appearance at each festival when I was up to it and worked at the store for 2 days a week(most of you know this already). The idea of having me gone through one festival seems like no big deal, but my parter/ mentor Tim has always been at the festivals whether I was or not. Our original plan was to have Tim come to the reunion with me. Soooo, the idea of a festival without me or Tim there makes things much more complicated. I have decided that somehow or other we will get the store through the recession.
I am not sure how, but somehow I will get to my reunion and I am going to do everything I can to get Tim there too.
Let me know if you have any bright ideas about running the festival without the 2 senior staff in town.