Graveyard Reflections

I visited my Mom’s grave today.  I think I mentioned this when I blogged on or about Memorial Day, but my Mom is buried at the National Cemetery of the Pacific, which is located at Puowaina Crater (known as “Punchbowl,” given its shape).  It’s been almost two years since I was here last.  Usually my Dad accompanies me to Punchbowl, and he joined me today also.  At first I asked him if it would be okay if I went to the graveyard by myself, but after further thought, I realized that I really wanted him there.  When we got to the graveyard, my Dad walked with me up the hill to my Mom’s grave, set me up with a bucket of water to wash her headstone down, a pair of garden shears to clean up the grass around her headstone, the flowers we bought, and a large empty plastic bag to sit on (stupidly, I decided to wear white shorts).  He then told me that he wanted to give me some “time alone with Mom,” and he started walking down the hill back to the car.  God, I love my Dad.

 

Almost as soon as my butt touched the empty plastic bag on the wet grass (Punchbowl gets a lot of rainfall, especially during the winter), it started to rain.  In the words of Forrest Gump, it was “big ol’ fat rain” and a lot of it.  Thankfully, I brought my travel umbrella with me, so I opened it up over me while I sat there, cleaning around my Mom’s headstone and talking to her.  Several tour buses packed with tourists drove past the hill I was sitting on.  I would have loved to see what I looked like from one of the tour buses driving by.  A lone mourner sitting at the top of a hill amongst a bunch of headstones in the rain, covered by a black umbrella.

 

I realize that can “talk” to my Mom anywhere I want, but there’s something about being at her grave, staring at the name “Rosita” etched into her headstone, remembering the moment they lowered her coffin into the pit.  There’s something about being at her grave that allows me to talk openly and freely about whatever is on my mind.  Today I started with, “Well, as you know it’s been a pretty tough year for me. . . ,” and I almost immediately also started to cry.  I was taken aback by this emotional outburst.  This may sound weird and crazy, but I got the sense that the tears weren’t all mine — that she has watched my struggles this past year, knew what was on my mind and in my heart, and was able to express through me how she feels about my journey this past year.  As soon as I got my cry out, I took a deep breath in and felt a sense of calm come over me, and almost simultaneously, the rain stopped.  It was a very weird experience that I cannot fully explain.

 

My Dad has said that graveyards are for the living, not the dead, giving those who have lost loved ones a place to grieve and reflect.  That is true for me and my Mom’s grave.  It has always been a place for me to go to collect my thoughts, say whatever is on my mind without feeling a need to self-edit, and feel a bit closer to the Mom that I lost.  Since I moved away from home, visiting my Mom’s grave has become a temporal marker also, because I usually visit her grave around Christmas time.  Today, as I sat at my Mom’s grave, I realized how much adversity I have had to endure in the last year and how much more I will continue to face in the next year.  For the first time in a long time, I vocally admitted how hard this journey has been for me.  No talk of  how I’m the “poster child for chemo” or how well I have handled cancer.   I swore and cussed and got out all the appropriate and fitting adjectives to describe this battle that I’ve been fighting for the last year.  It felt good.  I also thought about the last “talk” I had with my Mom when I was at her grave two years ago.  How life changes on a dime.

 

After saying a few prayers I packed up to leave.  I stood there for a moment staring at her headstone and took a deep breath in. It was an overcast day, but in that moment, the sun peeked through a couple of sparse clouds.  I stood in the warmth of the light for just a moment before walking back down the hill to my Dad’s car.  When I got into my Dad’s car, he didn’t ask me any questions about my time at the grave.  Rather, he asked me what I wanted for lunch.  Again, I love my Dad. 

A Very Merry Christmas

I’m not a religious person, but I consider myself spiritual.  There are moments that make me question the existence of God and then there are moments where my faith is reaffirmed.  The last few days have not only confirmed the existence of a God in my mind and heart, but they have made me feel like I’m in her/his good graces.

I got out of SeaTac Airport on the last day before the weather got really crappy and flights started getting cancelled, with super-snow driver Jackie giving me a safe ride to the airport before the snow hit Seattle.  I arrived in Honolulu to 80-degree weather and clear skies.  The majority of my family greeted me at the airport, and I felt elated.  I haven’t seen my family in two years, which is a lot for someone who usually goes home every Christmas.  Last year, I made a last-minute decision to stay home in Seattle for Christmas at the request of my then-live-in boyfriend, which was right before I was diagnosed in late January 2008.   Part of the sadness that came over me when I was diagnosed was that I didn’t get a chance to see my family that Christmas. 

This year’s trip home has been absolutely wonderful.  I flew in on Saturday afternoon and will be here until Sunday afternoon.  Aside from a ’bout of food poisoning on Sunday and having to work while I’m here, I am having an amazing time.  I’m getting to eat all my favorite foods here, spend some serious QT with my family, and be reminded of how beautiful it is here.  For example, today my Stepmom, youngest sister, and I went out to Kailua on the east side of O’ahu to spend some time with my older sister, my niece, and my sister’s boyfriend and family.  My youngest sister drove us there and we took the scenic route home through Waimanalo, past Makapu’u, Sandy Beach (and Halona Blowhole where President-Elect Barack Obama recently scattered his grandmother’s ashes — also very near where I’d like my ashes scattered when it’s time), Hawaii Kai, Niu Valley, and finally to my family’s house in Aina Haina.  I’ve driven this route an uncountable number of times, but for the first time in a long time, I was really taken by the beauty of the mountains, the ocean, the clear skies, the palm trees and local flora & fauna, and white sand beaches along the way.  While taking lots of photos of this very familiar path home, I stuck my head out the window, took a deep breath in, then sat back with a big smile on my face.  It is great to be home.    

My father is still the sometimes-grumpy old man with a sharp wit and quirky sense of humor.  My Stepmom is still the rock of our family, with the calmest, most laid back demeanor of anyone I know.  My younger sister closest to me in age is a workaholic like me.  My youngest sister has become an amazing young woman.  My older sister has found an amazing support system with her boyfriend and his very cool family.  And my niece.  Oh my God, she’s adorable (imagine Dora the Explorer in the flesh), energetic (she’d give the Energizer Bunny a run for its money), super friendly (in a way that necessitates you keep an eye on her, lest she walk off with a stranger), and mischievous at times (giving you pause to contemplate what this 5 year old will be like as a teenager).  I’m halfway through my trip and I’m looking forward to hanging out and catching up with my family more.  This is exactly what I needed to rejuvenate my spirit.

I’m presently in my parents’ living room typing up this blog entry, listening to the Makaha Sons of Ni`ihau sing “Winter Wonderland” on a local Christmas TV special.  Life is good.  Merry Christmas, everyone!

Welcome to Your New Life

My apologies for being offline for a bit.  Being “back in the saddle” meant dealing with lots of work drama last week.  I ended my stressful week with a good night’s sleep on Friday so that I could get up early on Saturday to go to the gym, continue working, and do some cleaning around the house.  I woke up early enough on Saturday to go to a step class with my favorite instructor at 24 Hour Fitness, Marisa.  I used to go to Marisa’s class every Saturday morning several months before my gynecologist found Karla.  This Saturday was my first time back to Marisa’s class since my diagnosis.  Marisa has great energy, she puts on the funkiest music that just makes you want to shake your booty, and her is choreography is challenging and fun.  All her students have smiles on their faces, despite the fact that her class starts pretty early in the morning on Saturday.

A bit more than halfway through our hour-long workout, when Marisa has challenged everyone to interval training in between learning the choreography, Marisa shouted into her microphone, “Welcome to your new life, people!  Welcome to being healthy and valuing your bodies!”  Now I’ve blogged about having this same revelation throughout my journey this year, but Marisa’s words really resonated with me on Saturday.  As I mentioned in my last post, now that I’m back on full-time status at work, I’ve been trying to reconcile my billable requirements at work with my new healthy lifestyle.  This past week, I had the first pangs of feeling like I would be unsuccessful in my efforts, as I was unable to exercise for most of last week because of my busy schedule.  I mean, how hard should it be to get in 45 minutes of exercise each day?  Unfortunately, at my job, it is often very difficult to take time to yourself and to take care of yourself.  Most associates feel like they are desperately trying to keep their heads above water with the workloads they carry.  I realized on Saturday that truly welcoming my new life may mean that I will have to accept my limitations and be realistic about the demands of my job.  I can’t think of any other attorneys in my office who exercise regularly.  In fact, the attorneys often joke about how much weight they’ve gained since joining the firm. 

My law clerk shared with me today something he read recently that talked about how people know what decisions are best for them, but various factors prevent them from pulling the trigger when it comes to hard decisions.  I believe it.  It’s very hard to break inertia and many people (myself included) fear change.  However, I’m concerned that I have a round peg in my hand but a square hole in front of me.  Perhaps I should stop fucking around and just find a new career.  Geez.  I love the fact that I’m stressing out about making decisions to eliminate stress in my life.  I’m trying very hard to welcome my new life, but I’m having some problems defining what my new life can and should be.

Back in the Saddle Again

I don’t know if I’m actually feeling better today or if I’m just distracted by the shitloads of work I need to get done before Christmas.  I may have mentioned this already, but my firm returned me to full-time status as of November 1st, so I just completed my first month back at work at 100%.  In addition to catching up on the caseload that I’ve carried throughout my treatment, I have an arbitration on December 11th and I just got assigned a large construction defect case that requires oodles of paperwork to go out the first two weeks of December.  Clearly, the partners in my firm are ready to put me back to work.

Honestly, I welcome the distraction at work and the challenge of trying to manage my new lifestyle with the requirements of my job at full-time capacity.  Although I’m still very aware that a high-stress job is not in my best interests, I’m not ready to write off being an attorney.  I had several conference calls today on my “hot and heavy” cases in active litigation and I realized how much I enjoy being an attorney.  I love strategizing, keeping my cool amongst a bunch of adversarial pricks, obtaining fantastic results for difficult clients, and establishing an ethical practice where other attorneys know exactly where they stand with me at all times.  I want to make every effort to succeed at my job with my current billable requirements without sacrificing the changes I’ve made regarding exercise and diet, but I wonder if it’s possible to be in such a deadline-driven job without putting my health at risk.   I’m not sure if it’s possible, but I sure as hell am going to try.  For right now, I’m moving forward, keeping my eyes straight ahead, and praying that I’m able to make this work.