Musings on the family
It has been almost two months since Star passed away. I had been prepared for the loss for a long time, both intellectualy and emotionally, but sometimes my mind runs away from me. There are still times when I wish I could pick up the phone and give her a call, to hear her voice, or just to have a routine conversation with her.
It’s been said that one does not truly appreciate someone until that someone is gone from one’s life. I now know this sentiment to be true. At times, when my mind is quiet and has time to focus on things without the pressures of daily life, I find my thoughts turning to Star. I miss the little things about her I never fully appreciated before: her laugh, her wit, and that intangible, unquantifiable trait that makes us all unique human beings.
Star had led a hard life – an abusive husband, an injury inflicted in a case of random violence, traitorous in-laws who stole her children out from under her, among other things. The troubles of her life culminated with a particularly vile and relentless form of cancer which ultimately stole her from her friends and her family. Through it all, though, she never gave up, never quit fighting for her life and for those she loved. Even as her body was failing, her will never surrendered to despair or depression.
The hardest part about having lost someone you love is having to adjust to the loss of opportunities to say important things. Suddenly, little things – words like her ever-cheerful “hey, Bubba” – take on entirely new level of meaning, a new level of importance. Just thinking that I’ll never again hear those words as only she could say them bores a hole in my heart that hurts as few things have ever hurt before.
All that aside, thought, I can handle losing Star; that’s not really a problem for me. The added weight of dealing with the family is what’s making it more difficult. Among my family, I’m the strong one – able to shrug off anything with ease. In many cases this is true, after all, our past prepares us for the present. I like to think I’m handling Star’s death pretty well, all things considered, but I have to worry about the members of my family who aren’t as strong as I. PJ is having bouts of depression for which he’s having to take medication, Dad is doing everything to try and hide from it, and Mom, who has suffered more than anyone else I know, has pretty much lost her will to live. Added to this is Star’s son Dustin who has made some serious mistakes in his life, and needs mature and reliable guidance to get his life back on track.
Even my near-endless reserve of emotional strength has its limits. In the past, I’ve carried greater weights but for much shorter periods of time. This situation is more like an emotional endurance trial. I’m not yet approaching the limits of my endurance, but if things continue the way they are, it will eventually happen. It worries me that my strength will fail at a time when someone really needs me.
And this brings me back to Star. I know she drew a lot of her strength from me. She once mentioned that I was her motivation to keep going. She knew I wouldn’t give up if I were in her shoes. I found that comment kind of ironic because I was doing the same thing with her – I gave her my strength, she mutilplied it and sent it back to me. I never truly appreciated it until she was gone. I appreciate it now.
I love you, Star, and I miss you.
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3 Responses to “Musings on the family”
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Vic, hang in there. I realize you have always been the source of strength for your family, but sometimes it’s an obligation you don’t have to carry 100 percent of the time. You have friends who love and support you. Lean on them when you need to.
Nicki
Vic,
In my life I’ve been fortunate to have lost very few people I love, no one that I loved as much as you love your sister. I can’t imagine how hard that is, combined with being the person that holds your family together. As Nicki said, you have friends you can lean on, who will willingly and lovingly support you through this. Give them the opportunity to do for you.
sheep
Like any other marathon, take time to top off your fluids. Request space or company or assistance as needed. That’s what your buds are for.
As to your family, that is going to be a harder sell. After all your parents have been through, they don’t have any reserves. Really, they need to be recharging themselves after this drain, but I’m sure they have no clue how to do that. Perry is at a point where he’s going to have to figure it out or let it crush him. I’m glad he’s trying meds, but that only goes so far. Most people don’t feed the body correctly; trying to feed the soul is trickier still. I’d suggest therapy or grief councelling, but I’m not sure how well that would go over. Perry might be more receptive to it than your parents.
I think the adversarial component to your relationship with Star helped fuel the energy exchange. You train harder when you train with a partner. Heaven help your next sparring partner. I only hope you can find someone approaching Star’s calibre. Maybe you really should run for office…?
The hardest thing, I find, is accepting the emptiness, realizing it needs to be filled, and realizing that succeeding is not replacing. Easier said than done, but you do the best you can.