Like holding water

Another anniversary came and [almost] gone.  The past 4 years weren't easy.  The details are not part of this blog (at least not now), but let me just say that I didn't know it'd be THAT hard.  It's not only losing Liam and all the coping, but so much more.  I know, I know - it's unfair that I'm saying how difficult it is but not including any details.  Well, that's life.  Deal with it.

People who remember Liam mentioned her in the past week.  What a fun and loving and lively personality she had.  Her amazing aura.  How she lightened up the room when she came in.  Sometimes I ask myself if I ought to remember just the good times.  Because Liam's life were extremely challenging [for all of us] way before the last year in which she was fighting her last battle.  The answer is clear and instinctive:  Remember it all.  There's no other way.  But of course, most people aren't like me and they mostly mention just the good times.  So just to keep things in perspective I'm gonna spoil the party [yet again].

So I'm remembering the last year.  The last year was like trying to hold water in between your fingers. It sips right through.  If you just read the original blog again, it's obvious. We tried to hold her life, but it sipped right through.  Whatever we tried - failed. And the hardest part was our failure to help her through the pain.  Ironically and madly I remember the times that she was sleeping deeply (either under heavy medication or otherwise) as the best times.  Because during those times she wasn't suffering (and we could catch a short breather).

We were waiting.  Waiting for a miracle to come or for the nightmare to end.  The miracle, it turned out, was that Liam was here in the first place and for her to do the things she did with such a Swiss-cheese brain.

--------

Some folks remembered and brought flowers etc.  How kind and thoughtful.  (Sadly, no beer.)  We spent Labor Day weekend at a large cabin in the mountains of north Georgia - the owner live in the neighborhood.  How kind of her to let us use it!  Last time we were there Liam was with us.  The house is not wheelchair accessible so I immediately remembered how fun AND difficult was the last visit.  This time it was so much easier - physically.  On the other hand, Liam wasn't with us.  There's no question what we prefer: tough with Liam or easy without her.

But good friends came over which made the weekend so much easier to pass.  Plus the deer that came to visit every dawn/dusk, the eagles/hawks, the chickens, the horses, the greenery. 

Here's an excerpt from a song I love.  I admire people who can express so much thoughts and feelings with so few words.  You'd notice how relevant and personal the lyrics are.  But relevance aside, the reason this song speaks to me so strongly, is because [I think that] it talks about unconditional love - whatever the situation is - which of course reminds me of Liam.

Here It Is / Leonard Cohen

<I'm quoting only the relevant lines>

Here is your sickness.
Your bed and your pan;
And here is your love
For the woman, the man.

May everyone live,
And may everyone die.
Hello, my love,
And, my love, Goodbye.

And here is the night,
The night has begun;
And here is your death
In the heart of your son.

And here is the dawn,
(Until death do us part);
And here is your death,
In your daughter’s heart.

May everyone live,
And may everyone die.
Hello, my love,
And, my love, Goodbye.

And here you are hurried,
And here you are gone;
And here is the love,
That it’s all built upon.

  

There's probably more to write, but it's almost the next day and more importantly, football is on - FINALLY.