Some people call this strange existence "the middle place". I wouldn't wish the reaper-chasing part on anyone, but the moments of clarity and purpose would not come without the fear.
I'm still in a bit of denial that Sharon is gone. I feel like someone I was playing tug-o-war with stepped away for a moment for a break and I'm still standing there, holding the rope, waiting for her to come back like some child while the audience weeps at my naive stupidity. It just doesn't make sense to me. It wasn't meant to happen this way. And even thinking that feels indulgent when her husband is likely sitting in their apartment wondering how he'll go on without her.
For the last two weeks since her death I've waivered between being a hardcore vegan and being an unofficial mini-cupcake tester. Part of me knows what I want to be when I grow up - the mostly vegetarian, dabbling in paleo girl who does what she loves, runs, loves her kids, travels to Cinque Terre for mini breaks, wears yellow stilettos and rocks a short hair head for the man who loves her and still looks sexy even when he's carrying a poop bag for the dog. Then I think that can't be enough. I should be the girl who stays the latest, drinks the most, says whatever the fuck she thinks and just generally lives like next week she'll develop that dreaded cough that leads to the end. And I think about this shit all the time.
I know I'm not the only one. And I know cancer didn't give me some special card to allow me to muse more than others might. It's sometimes just wanking and often reeking of privilege. I could be wondering how to feed my kids or afford a haircut. I understand I'm coming from a certain place with this stuff. But still...
I've been on vacation for a week and like all vacations, it's only in the last couple of days that I've relaxed enough to start rejigging my brain on some stuff. I've changed the way I deal with my kids and food - I decide where, when and what and they decide whether and how much - and I'm trying to be more George-Costanza-do-the-opposite-of-what-I-usually-do to keep my mind sharp and ever-evolving.
I've been pondering the next stage of my life a lot, trying to envision where the path of least regrets lies. I'll get closer over the next year, but in the meantime, I need to get to Zara to buy these pimp shoes:
Just love reading your posts. You are THE ONE! You are already #1 in my books and you keep trying to do better for you and your family. You already rock it all, but you keep striving for a bit more. I admire you, I learn from you, and you continue to be an inspiration to us all. luvs ya, diane xo
ReplyDeletePS love the stilettos and the George quote!
When you grow up maybe I won't be needed as your Ma anymore! So, stay as young as you are now and don't get too serious, life is too short (spoken from this place I am in) to make every mole hill into a mountain!
ReplyDeleteCarissa, I think about Sharon so much too...and her husband (whom I'm never met). It breaks my heart. I think about the last time that I saw her, not knowing, not even fathoming that it would be the last time I would see and speak to her. I wish I could have known her better and told her that I thought she was really cool and that I liked her ideas and how she wrote. Sitting here and thinking that seems so self indulgent, though.
ReplyDelete^^^ this was me, by the way.
ReplyDeleteDi - I've met no better cheerleader.
ReplyDeleteMa - I'll always need you, dammit, and you coming off your cancer meds this month is bloody inspiring.
Natalie, darling, your post touched me. Are you still scaring dk with your green sludge?
Hi Carissa...I'm Sharon's cousin Letitia. We've not met but I've heard so much about you! Karl sent me a link to your blog. In this post alone, I know why Sharon considered you such a good friend. The combination of life musings, references to Cinque Terre and Zara all combined in one post with a f-bomb thrown in? Awesome, I know Sharon would be proud.
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