Okay, I'm not going to bother undertaking the huge task of unearthing all the events of the last month. In a nutshell, I've dealt with two deaths in Rockford, dealt with an unfinished kitchen for three weeks (it's FINALLY done, thank God, except for the painting), enjoyed an awesome Mother's Day weekend, gone to Detroit with Greg to see Lungfish, to Canada to sleep, gotten harassed by the border police, and have generally been everywhere doing everything all at once. Or at least, it seems like it. I spent last night at home, and it was so nice to be able to read for a bit, then sleep in my own bed.
So yeah, Mary Anderson, my former sister-in-law, passed away, as did Bill Spring, my dad's former best friend of thirty-plus years. Needless to say, the past few weeks have been pretty emotional, bouncing back and forth between the past and the present, juggling old feelings I'd forgotten existed with the current state of peace and unequivocal happiness that has been ushered into existence through Greg. Up and down, laughing and crying, you get the idea. Mary's death wasn't a complete shock, but I certainly can't say that I expected it this soon. Although we haven't spoken in the last four years, she is someone I loved and adored, respected and admired for many years. She was family to me for some time, and I have missed and will continue to miss her. The only comfort I have is in knowing that she's where she's wanted to be for some time now - rockin' out with Jesus. I may not be a Christian, but when it comes to Mary, I truly do believe that she, in one way or another, truly is with Jesus, listening to scary 80s pop music and being lathered in blue eye shadow. My heart and love go out to her.
Bill Spring.... To get into the entire history would take more time than I have. Put simply, Bill and my dad had a falling out years ago over something that should NOT have been the end of their friendship. Dad tried several times to reconcile with Bill, to no avail. I wasn't able to attend the funeral, but my mother went. Bill's sister pulled my mom aside at one point to tell her that Bill, in his final days, expressed that the only regret he had in his life was "the way I treated Steve Thorvalson." Repeating those words, even in writing, brings tears to my eyes. So bittersweet. Life is too short to hold grudges, people. You get pissed off at your best friend, decide not to speak to him after practically raising your children together for years, and the next thing you know, you're dying the same way he did, minus the comfort of closure, minus any lessons you might have learned years earlier had your choices been different. I can't grasp the true feeling of facing my own mortality through a filter of chemotherapy. I've never experienced that first-hand. It breaks my heart to think that Bill was not 100% at peace with himself when he went, and that the reason was because of some stupid fucking disagreement 15 years ago that never should have escalated to the point that it did. All I can hope is that wherever they are, Bill and Dad are reconciled. I'm sure that they are. It's just hard to understand why they couldn't have done that years ago, in life, why two families that were once so close are now virtually strangers to one another. Julie, who was once another sister to me, now has twin boys I will probably never meet. She has never met Maddie, who any day now will be turning 30 and having kids of her own (by immaculate conception, of course). It's just mind-blowing. I cannot wrap my brain around that kind of stubbornness. I just don't get it.
Enough.