Someone very close to me has recently been given a terminal diagnosis in regard to cancer and I’ve written a few posts, just trying to deal with this situation and without the crutch of alcohol.
Ugh… someone close to me that loves life is preparing to die… it makes me think of my own depression and anxiety, how tough life can be, and watching her trying to enjoy every moment has been a very emotional experience. Going to bed laughing and waking up early, trying to cry softly as the mind wanders thinking of Hillary and her road trip, on old highways and backroads in her Ford van, while also stopping from time to time in order to treat a terminal disease.
A brother and sister that had just met a couple of years before her doctor’s appointment, sharing the same father, kind of. They both knew that they had a dad, sperm donor as they refer to him now, even though he passed away a few years before the two siblings had met for the first time or had even talked on the telephone. The father died before he had to face a quick jury consisting of at least two of his…who the fuck knows how many children scattered about. There are stories of other possible brothers and sisters around the world, since he had been in the service and was known to move around about between the states and among females.
The two siblings had just really begun to get to know each other when she was told. He really liked the thought of having a sister… of having a family. But after one appointment things changed…a timer went off, an hourglass just started to lose sand… and no one seems to know how much sand is there. It could be a small beach… it could be a small bag. No one knows.
A fleet-white 2006 Ford E350 cargo van full of a week or so worth of clothes / laundry and a futon frame with its accompanying mattress barreling down the highway while a brother and sister spend one first and maybe last road trip together. Of course they’ve been in the same car together driving here or there, but this is a semi-planned out adventure, during a pandemic, when a lot of life is frozen while hers seems to be ending… taking turns sleeping, driving, and spending time around the lost sibling that they were only recently given as a gift, just to watch it be taken away in such a cruel and unjust manner. This same scene plays out every day though. Not this kick-ass van road trip, but a brother loses a sister to cancer every day. It really doesn’t hit you until you’re one of the ones about to lose someone.
This brother and sister that didn’t even know each other a few years ago sharing the last part of an adventure, talking about the food, the sights, and then time for another round of pills or patches carefully placed on her back. The trip goes on, she to Tennessee and he is on a plane going back to Cali. She’ll be in Tennessee going to a class reunion, trying to get her water damaged RV fixed up, and letting the van get a rest for a bit, then back on the road to who knows where for who knows how long.
I cleaned the windows on her huge Ford E350 van this morning, looking over at my tiny Chevy Suburban by comparison laughing to myself how bizarre to have the Suburban being the smallest of the two, which is rarely the case. I cleaned the chrome bumpers, even though they are slightly dented from years of regular use… I can’t control the urge…I have to let chrome shine when applicable… I quickly clean her side mirrors and the chrome Ford badge that rests firmly in the center of the towering vans grill. Check the oil, then help load up an igloo cooler filled with leftovers and accumulated snacks from the last few days, hoping that she has amazing days ahead with good weather and safe travels, knowing that she’ll be back within a few weeks and then back on the road to continue her road trip around the country on her last hurrah. I can’t wait to hear more from the blog posts and the texts.
I just received a text that she’s sleeping at an Alpaca farm tonight in her van. If you would like to read Hillary’s blog you can by clicking here.
Drop Out, Smoke Crack, Get MBA 