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Published: December 9th 2009
This entry is not about traveling, it's not about the things I've done over the past week or the new friends I've made or the laughs we have shared. It's about an old event, an old friend, one that passed away exactly 2 years and 3 days ago today. And when the date was pointed out to me earlier this afternoon, I just stopped and stared. I wasn't home, I was in Sweden on the actual anniversary of her death, but on that day (Sunday), I didn't know the date or the time or have any plans. I still thought it was November. And perhaps that is a good thing, perhaps it shows the closure I have made and the progress that comes after someone you idolize has left this world. But when I got to thinking about it, I almost felt ashamed that I hadn't paid more attention to the date, that it hadn't registered right away until I glanced at the calendar TODAY. And I felt sad...
This past weekend, I was in Denmark at a new friend's place and death had taken its toll also on one of his friends. And as his friend was contemplating whether she should return home right now or stay and finish her finals, I thought of Her, my Aunt PJ. And I even talked about her a little, understanding where the girl was coming from. And she had said that being in a foreign country, you're not on home time anymore, it's like being on a different planet. There are two lives now -- the one you're living here and the one OVER there that's going on and you can't always interconnect the two. That is totally true. And even I know recently how hard it is when you try to combine the two. And so I wasn't thinking about the OVER there happenings...I wasn't thinking about the past or everything that has happened recently when I was away on vacation this past week. And I wasn't thinking when the anniversary of her death came and passed me by.
And yet tonight, I find myself thinking about it. Last year...LAST YEAR, I was thinking about it every moment the second December hit until the 6th rang in. And it may be because last year, I was alone, house-sitting for a friend with only a dog as my companion. My mind was on her and only her. And in that moment, I wrote a blog on myspace that tonight, I went back and re-read. Many things are the same, many ideas I had that night over one year ago as I lay awake, sobbing and typing away just after midnight before finals week as a beautiful yet ornery dog lay in the next room. And since many of these words still ring true, I feel the need to re-post them:
Saturday, December 06, 2008
dear aunt pj...
Current mood: sad
Category: Life
Dear Aunt PJ,
It's exactly 12:01am Alaska time...the start of a new day, the day that you passed away.
I've written this "letter" in my head almost every day for the past 365 days. I even attempted to write it out on paper once, but then I burned the paper. I figured typing it into my blog will not only finally get the words out there, but I'm a little more hesitant to burn my laptop. Wow, 365 days - it doesn't feel like that long ago. It feels like yesterday that I got that infamous call that still resounds in my head.
A lot has changed in the last year...more than words can really say. Not just with me, but with the entire world. The end of 2007 and all of 2008 has definitely been a year to remember, a year to celebrate...cry...laugh...rejoice...pray...sleep...it has just been. And how fast the time has gone by. It's been 11 months since your "memorial party" in California...the night that I cried for half an hour and then drank and laughed for nearly 7 hours with all of your friends...all of the amazing women that you had to leave behind. I never realized...I never knew a lot of things then...including the fact that you were 52 when you died. That was a number that meant a lot to me growing up. Irony is wicked in that way...
Yah know, being a biologist has only made your sickness harder to understand. I honestly still don't understand. I learn every day about the interworkings of our body, the fundamental processes of life, the mechanics of our genes, the rules of natural selection, and you think that it would bring more understanding. But there are times when it doesn't help to know that we can be broken down so easily. It doesn't help to know how fragile our bodies we really our. We think we're the most dominant species in the world, flawless, untouched, divinely-created to live for some higher power. But we are not. It just takes a simple ion imbalance to throw off our physiology and we are down for the count. And cancer...it exists in us all, just laying dormant waiting for that trigger to come along and "turn it on," making it a prevalent part of our existence. I often wonder what that switch was in you. Somehow, my anger at cancer has turned into an even deeper obsession with sharks. Why? Because they are one of very few taxa that have battled it and won. They have battled every disease and overcome it. Yet you take them out of water for a brief period and they don't stand a chance. If they can find the way to overcome cancer and leukemia, why can't we?
You always admired me for my scientific ways. I never really understood that either. And you always showed such praise for my ambitions without being overbearing or fake. I miss that...I found an old email the other day that you had sent me. You gave me advice on how to handle difficult roommates -- a large metal bat...lol. Don't worry, I didn't do anything drastic...mainly because there's never a bat around when you need one! Actually, I don't really do anything drastic. I'm kind of a wuss. You once told me that you admired my ambition to travel the world and go diving anywhere and everywhere but when I really think about it, that ambition didn't really start until after I went to California and met you during junior high. And now...I'm not as strong-willed as some think. I'm actually kind of a clinger. I cling to things close to me...things that I value and I have the hardest time saying goodbye. That's another reason for this ridiculous blog and my hand's not really steading enough at the moment to try writing this out on paper.
I wish I was extremely outgoing and strong-willed. I wish I had gotten to talk to you about more things. I try to live life now with no regrets, but there are a lot of things I regret. I regret not having a particular conversation with you when you were in Idaho last August. And I regret being too afraid to call you last fall because it was too hard to hear you withering away. And I regret not knowing more about you and all of your friends in California.
If you could read this, you'd probably be shaking your head, ready to kick my ass. No tears or unhappiness for your passing...I know, I know. That almost worked at your memorial party...almost. Yah know, your memorial party reminded me of a tradition they have here in Alaska. The Tlingit call it a Koo.eex' or a memorial celebration one year after someone's passing. And in these traditional gatherings, you bring offerings or mementos reminding you of the one who is gone, but you are expected to rejoice with happiness and not despair. I guess you could say your memorial party was like a Koo.eex' only about 11 months too soon. Somehow, sadness just comes with the passing of someone you care about. And my professed wussy-ness often gets the better of me and I find myself tearing up about the past.
In this ridiculous compilation of words, I just wanted to say...that I miss you. I miss my Aunt and the effect you had on everyone in our family. There is a very large void there that hasn't been filled yet and probably never will. So if these words somehow make it out into the universe where you are frolicking among the stars, chasing Elvis in a Mustang while clutching a bottle of crown royal and wearing a Sacramento Monarchs jersey...well then I'm glad I finally had the courage to put them out there and I won't be burning my computer...
Rest In Peace, Aunt PJ!
A lot has changed in the past year, a lot of things for me personally. And perhaps I don't cry now as I write these words because I've done a lot of crying this year, had a lot of confusion, made a lot of mistakes, and done some things that I am not proud of. But -- I have learned and I have changed and I have forgiven and I have smiled and I have laughed and I feel as though overall, I have found my optimism again. I think it was some time around last March that my optimism left me, it got up and walked off as I wept the week my Papa died, for the urchin I had to kill, and for (and this is ridiculous) the passing of the Wicked Witch of the West in the book I was reading. Things just seemed to go downhill from there and they never quite got better. There were moments of happiness with certain people that I wouldn't trade for anything, moments that make me smile even today and that even if those people aren't really in my life, I still am happy they were a part of it for even a little while. And there were academic successes for me -- I proved myself to a doubtful teacher, I got a grant, I presented at two professional conferences and worked on conservation genetics for my little fish. But all of the good times, they were overshadowed by the bigger picture, the conflict and the emotions that came in the summer months. And I felt trapped and exhausted and saddened that I couldn't change the ways things were going. Every decision seemed like a wrong one, every emotion felt wrong. I couldn't lie or hide what I was feeling but being honest just made it worse. And then I left and I came here to this beautiful yet extremely dark and cold country feeling defeated and alone.
But my dear Aunt PJ, through all of this, I have never forgotten what you have taught me. Never spent more than I truly knew I could afford, never over-indulged to the point of careless flaunting, and never gave up my spirit to try. I can only try to make things right if others will let me. I can only try to get into graduate school if I know I'm worthy of going. I can only try to see the good in people and not judge them for some bad mistakes they have made. And I can only be happy if I let myself be happy. This past year has taught me a lot about myself and I carry around the memory of you as a reminder. I talk about you a lot and it gets easier every time, easier to say your name or think of something crazy and spontaneous you did. And it makes me smile instead of cry now. Maybe that's why I wasn't sad on Sunday, but you were still there. I was even brave and openly talked and introduced myself to someone which is not something I do often so perhaps you were with me that day more than I know. No matter what, I know that you're memory is still here and I only hope that in my life, I can be half of the woman that you were because what a hell of an accomplishment that would be! And so, I write these words beneath this starry Norwegian sky where you would be pleased to know a possible alien appeared last night! Or was it you, sensing the feeling of loneliness I had upon returning to a dark, quiet flat and just reminding me to keep that optimism that I so recently reconnected with? Either way, you will always be remembered as more than just the woman with whom I share a middle name...Rest in Peace, Aunt PJ!
~kari
P.S. If this is really you Aunt PJ, I've always believed that we turn into stars after we leave earth...
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marsha
non-member comment
Party on Kari! It's a good rule to remember.