Tuesday, March 16, 2010

The end of the journey

Tunnel

Hi. We're going home today. Well, we're flying to London tonight and then to San Francisco tomorrow morning. Anyway, we're at the end of our journey. I would say this was our best trip so far. And even though politically this country is a disaster (maybe more on that later) it is a spectacular place.

Last I wrote I was dealing with a bout of nausea. So annoying. It passed a day or so later but I spent that day thinking about my friend Renee, a blogging friend I met a few months ago. She was dying of cancer, but through her blog, had quite a following.  We used to leave pithy little comments for each other. Heartfelt. Silly. Sometimes serious. Usually not. Her situation was serious enough. I actually felt loved by her, which I know sounds ridiculous, since we never met or even spoke on the phone. I knew her prognosis was bad and that the end was near but somehow I convinced myself that she'd be fine. Her posts and comments to me were so full of life, I could not imagine her any other way.

In the last month or so we stopped hearing from Renee and started hearing from her lovely daughter Angelique so I knew things had turned. In the last post where it seemed it was only a matter of days, hours. She was still suffering but fighting for whatever time she could have with the family she loved so much. I kept wanting to leave comments true to the style of our relationship. Renee! Go to the light! I am sure there is fast speed wireless in the next world! We'll all be waiting for your next dispatch from the great beyond. And tell god I think cancers blows. But I couldn't. It all seemed so grim and unfair.

So the nausea made me think of her. She was always battling nausea and everything else. Always in treatment. Always exhausted. But strong in spirit. And always with a sense of humor, or so it appeared to me anyway. And I thought, crimey, I can't even deal with a little nausea for a day and a half and this incredible woman has been in it for years.

Turns out she died on that Tuesday. And so many of us are feeling the loss.

5 comments:

  1. What a beautiful tribute to Renee! It is amazing how many hundreds of people she affected. I, too, got so caught up with her spirit and brilliant words and felt part of her life. I go to her blogs daily just to reread what she has written over the months and to read all of her blog friends' acknowledgments of their loss. She was the ultimate woman, mother, wife and friend. I hope for her lasting peace now.

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  2. p.s. I love the picture you chose for this blog. Renee would have loved it too; I'm sure of that.

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  3. so sad. i did not know her, but have seen so many courageous people in my line of work fight every day to be there for family a little longer . the nauseau they live with is heart breaking.
    god bless her soul.
    have a safe journey home.
    the seasons are always passing.

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  4. i adore how you kept this post in the witty tone that you two used in your comments back and forth to each other! it does such justice to her memory. i felt exactly the same way; someone who is churning out such fabulous, funny comments has no other destiny other than to emerge from this crisis. i don't think my brain has really accepted that she's gone.

    i hope you're having a good trip home. glad you're feeling better.

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  5. I know exactly what you mean here. Even though I never even got her hear her voice, I felt loved and lucky. She had quite an effect, didn't she. Last weekend, when I hurt my back and couldn't move and the medication made me feel nauseous, all I could think about was Renee and how tough she was and how I should just suck it up. I'm sure she will come to mind many more times in our lives.

    I wish I could have said one last good bye.

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