Light & Dark

June 3/11

I don't often get philisophical or super serious with this blog. Would much rather laugh, flirt, have fun, be spontaneous and playful, but today calls for something a little different.

To try and describe the emotion of the past 24 hours is pretty much impossible. Apart from the whole cancer thing (which is "on hold" till more test results on June 14th), there's been a lot of ups and downs. Plenty of tears. Sometimes bathed in light, and seconds later, concealed in darkness.

Light & dark
My sister Carrie's boyfriend, Paul Nodwell, was able to sum up a bit of how I've been feeling in an email he sent me a number of weeks ago. Among many things, Paul is an artist. An extraordinary painter. When he first learned of my diagnosis (back in March), he put feelings and emotions into words, using artistic analogies. I really like and appreciate what he said and it seems to fit the situation (and my mood) today.

Carrie with her boyfriend - artist Paul Nodwell
"The challenge of creating a great painting Lainey is the challenge of ALWAYS looking for the light. The bright side of a dark scene. The dappled light when you think you're in shade. That one ray that cuts through a dark canopy of trees. Funny thing is? it's always there. Even in a storm".

I know Paul is right, but sometimes it's challenging to find your way INTO that light, or even see it at all. Waves of sobs hit me while driving home yesterday after signing the paperwork to sell Mum's beloved home. But later, in thinking about it, I know we HAVE to, it's the right thing to do, for closure and to move on and go forward with our lives.

Here's the problem. Of the thousands of things I do badly, TOPS on the list is letting go of the past. (just ask anyone!) Second to that, is saying goodbye.

And what do I do BETTER than anything? You got it. Cry! (sadly, I've never known how to cry "on cue" - otherwise, I could have been an Oscar-winning actress). It ONLY happens when it's for real and from the heart and soul.

So, what do you think you get when you put this triple combo together? - (Being expert at not letting go and saying goodbye PLUS tears)? Yep. Ka-BOOM!

The shots I posted yesterday, showed Carrie and me looking fairly "together" about the whole selling-the-house thing. But on the INSIDE, we were feeling more like THIS. (even worse actually, 'cuz we were just kinda clowning for the camera).

Letting go and saying goodbye sucks
Just hours after getting the house on the market, I had to attend the funeral for Joan Rogers, the mother of my old high school friend, Dean Rogers. The juxtaposition of signing the paperwork to sell Mum's place, (and in the process, remembering her horribly sad death) - plus the emotional farewell to Dean's Mother, was a bit much to take in all at once.

The funeral was held at the stunning Yorkminster Park Baptist Church, (where Joan Rogers worshipped and volunteered her time for decades).

Only a week ago, my high school pal, Dean and I were laughing at standup comics. Now, we're together, mourning the loss of his Mum
Dean, his brother, Brian and sister, Carol, all bravely addressed the large crowd of mourners, reminiscing about her wonderful life and her caring, giving nature. I was astounded they made it through their speeches without losing it completely. Each time we were asked to stand and sing a hymn, I couldn't sing a note. The organ music was overwhelming and all of this seemed too close to home for me. When they launched into All Things Bright and Beautiful, (a favourite hymn of Mum's), it was all I could do not to break down.

Anyone who knew my Mum, was well aware of her love of "all creatures great and small," (especially birds), so when the congregation hit those words:

Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colours,
He made their tiny wings, - hoo boy. Let's just say, it was very moving.

One of the ministers who spoke, ended by saying something I don't recall ever hearing before. - We should feel gratitude that the death is now over. (and that Joan is out of pain). The minister then asked God to soothe our distress and heal our wounds, and advised us to "Think deeply and love fully." (Two things I try to do every day).

In doing so, maybe we can all eventually find the light in a dark scene.