My grandmother, who I didn’t care much for, used to say many, MANY stupid things. Amongst them, there’s one I’ll never forget. She said she always felt scared when things were going well, because that could only mean something terrible was about to happen.
For some reason, that got into my head and stayed there forever. That might be the reason -one of the reasons- why I’m always complaining, even when I have nothing to complain about and terribly afraid of being happy.
Yesterday I was happy. My husband actually told me he could just see in my eyes how happy I was. Things were going well, I got a new job, we’re moving, the girls are definitely NOT going through any kind of “terrible-two” crisis. They’re being easy and playing calmly most of the time. Everything was so great I wasn’t even nervous-eating.
So, today we went downtown and had a great day. The girls played outside, and they walked through (almost) the whole thing, like the big girls that they are.
I came home and before I sent my confirmation e-mails to the company, I automatically logged in to facebook. And there it was…
My favourite aunt has cancer. Ovaries.
Unlike most of us, she never dreamt about having a nice house, traveling around the world or being a super star. She only wanted to be a mother and a wife. And that’s why I think this is so unfair.
For as far as I can remember she was complaining about not having a boyfriend. Not having a husband. Not having a baby. It’s been that way her whole life.
“I’m waiting for love”, she always says.
I remember this one day, she was holding one of my cousin’s twins when she looked at me and said “is it possible that I’ll go through life without ever holding one of these knowing it’s my own?” I looked at her, not knowing what to say, wondering if she realized she had just turned 50 years old.
Maybe she realized that then. And maybe that made her sick.
She started smoking again. She reached new levels of sad. She realized her dreams would have to wait for a next life.
Even now, she’s acting like she doesn’t want to go through treatment. What would be the point of getting better if there’s no one to go back to?
And it’s so unfair.
It’s unfair that I had a happy day and my kids are jumping up and down the bed right now. I didn’t do anything right enough to deserve this. And she didn’t do anything wrong enough to deserve going through what she’s about to go through. Alone.