The Big "C"

The big “C”. The “C” word was whispered discreetly until lately when so many people have so many types of cancer that being discreet would be outdated. My mother and her two sisters had cancer…let me rephrase that…my mother had cancer on her larynx, her youngest sister died of a cancerous brain tumor in her early 50’s and, her only living sister, had cancer on her lungs, her breast, and is now dying of 2 inoperable, cancerous brain tumors. I spoke with her the other day. We have always been able to be frank with one another, as was always the style of the “magic 3”. I say "magic" because when all three sisters were together, they created their own world of fun and laughs. I always felt highly privileged to be a part of their special gatherings because it was the only time I felt like I was a part of something larger than this universe. A day on the Tygart River with those 3 on the pontoon boat, anchored in the shallow, water was like taking a trip to Disneyworld without spending any money (well maybe money on hot dogs and hamburgers). A simple leaf in the river became the topic for a private world. The 3 of them would push the leaf around on top of the silky surface of the then pristine Tygart River and make boat sounds while laughing. Aunt Jean would pick up a few twigs and call them “trees”. Mom, the oldest sister, would make the boat sounds, while Aunt Jo, the middle sister, would go looking for more twigs and leaves.

I spoke to Aunt Jo two days ago, after her son and daughter-in-law told me she was given 4-6 weeks to live. I asked her if she would come and visit me after she was gone. The sisters and I have an understanding that this is not impossible, as we always shared ghost stories and supernatural experiences based on our experiences in Appalachia, where natural laws played out more than the laws of governed societies. I told her that she was very brave.

Long ago, when I was younger and struggling with much angst as a poor artist, I asked my Aunt Jo if she could recommend a good book. She recommended “The Oldest Living Confederate Widow”. I could never remember the title long enough to buy the book but finally one day I wrote it down, bought the book and read it. The book, in a nutshell, was about a very young lady (girl) who was married away to a retired Captain of the war. It was about her struggles leaving her family at such a young age and dealing with the gruff, jaded character of the war veteran. I asked my Aunt Jo if she felt like that girl in the book and she said “No”. Yet I thought there were some parallels.

When I spoke to her on the phone the other day I told her that I was speaking to The Oldest Living Confederate Widow and she laughed.

Last night I cried all night and I haven’t cried in years. I could feel the presence of my mother and her sister, come to take away my Aunt Jo. They were trying to comfort me as I was cursing about the fact that I would have to close those chapters of my book. I even tried to bargain with them that I should go with them but no deal. Truth is, this reality of mine has gotten to be pretty enjoyable for the most part and I best not leave it yet. Besides, I still need to figure out the meaning of reality.

I supposed I stand a pretty good chance of dying with cancer like many of my family members. I hate pain and suffering so much and think it is so inhumane that I don’t know if I will be as brave as the magic 3. I wish they didn’t have to leave me alone to deal with it. I guess they might be around then, though, and take me with them to the next reality.