Death or Life

Death. It’s such a deafening word that needs no introduction. Just hearing the word death elicits emotions from people. Did it make you think of someone? Did it cause you to feel uncomfortable? It’s sad. People never recover from it; and losing someone you love to death is the ultimate tragedy. Because no one tells you it will randomly creep up on you and you’ll just start bawling in the middle of watching a movie or when you’re trying to eat dinner. Or worst, in a grocery store where onlookers stare at you in embarrassment. It’s hard to imagine a beautiful life who shaped yours so much is now gone from the world. It’s not fair. It sucks. But more importantly, it’s the memories with this cherished person who you will never get to hold again or see again that eats at you.

You look to your past and wonder, what could I have done differently? Does she know how much she meant to me? Then you recall the most random and precious moments you shared together.

Our First Meeting

As a young kid looking to spread my wings, I took a job in another city in another province away from home. I knew no one. What little social skills I had were from interacting with my loud, obnoxious, and rambunctious family. So when you bring this awkward kid into the ranks of researchers and professionals, you can expect interesting outcomes.

It was our annual Christmas party, and we were celebrating at a co-worker’s home. Everyone was expected to bring alcohol and a dish for potluck. I brought a bottle of wine and some deviled eggs as I knew most of the researchers were vegetarians. As the new kid in the department, and the youngest one, I stood out like a sore thumb. Most people thought I was a student.

When I decided to venture to this new city, I decided to become a new me. I would be open to all ideas and exchanges to help build my character and shape me into the person I needed to be for the future. I needed this as I grew up in a large community whereby you were called the daughter of your father. You were known to be a part of the clan and that in itself meant you had to act a certain way, do things a certain way, and your identity was shaped by this. I had no identity.

As such, I introduced myself to people and learned about them. However, there were two ladies, who I couldn’t help but find myself more drawn towards. One was this vivacious woman who scared the pants off everyone in the department. She was loud and very vocal about her opinions. It scared most people. The other, this wonderful bright and always happy lady who loved life. She was known for always eating but never putting on any weight and had this wonderful cheerful disposition you couldn’t help but be attracted to.

I’ll never forget this night. Either through drunken stupor or a need to feel liked, I tried my darndest to befriend the vivacious woman. She was very hesitant to our interaction at first. Throughout the years, I discovered she disliked my lack of warmth to her when we first met. First impressions do matter. However it was my interaction with this wonderful happy lady who would shape the rest of my coming years. How is it that I could get this lady to get down on all fours and act like a cat? I still don’t recall. All I know is that our friendship would last a lifetime. Hers.

Our Last Interaction

How do you chalk up 6 years of friendship with a fondness for eating out in a few sentences? How do you describe being there for a person you love by driving her to her chemo treatments and her CT scans? How do you describe sleeping over to make sure she is okay and that her house is cleaned and that she is fed and bathed? She was always the first one I called when I had an issue or needed career advice. She was there when the love of my life broke my heart and she walked me through my feelings of pain, grief, and betrayal. How do you describe numerous shopping trips to help her become a new her and buying furniture and paintings that shaped her quirky personality?

I reached out to her one night because I haven’t heard from her in awhile. She was in remission, so she wanted to celebrate, and I wanted her to spend quality time with those she loved. I knew her niece was visiting. I’ll remember it like yesterday, she told me she was in the hospital again. I asked if I could see her. She did not want visitors. But because she knew I needed her more, she acquiesced. It was probably because I bribed her with her favourite dish—miso soup.

I went into her room. She was sharing it with 8 other people. If you know this beautiful soul, she hates sharing a room. For 62 years, she was accustomed to living alone and loves her privacy. I cleaned up her belongings, talked and laughed with her. I watered down her miso soup as it always was too salty for her. Then she asked to go to the bathroom. I couldn’t help but laugh because even in her bad mood and despair, her ripping into the nurse with her intellect, was comical and humourous and so her. The nurse had it coming when she asked my dear friend: “Did you need help to go to the bathroom?” and my dear friend responded, “No. I pushed the call button for you to come here and watch me pee in public and all over the floor so all my 7 roommates can see.” But it was her parting words that forever will haunt me, she was so wise, and I didn’t heed her. She said, “I think this is the end, my dear. It feels like an awful trick from the universe into letting me believe that I would be okay. It’s been a roller coaster. I got cancer. I got treatment. Tammy, my cat of 23 years died. I’m in remission. I feel like I’m on the next downward spiral and the ride is over.” Imagine her hand going up and down like a roller coaster. I told her she was just in a negative mindset. She fought it once and we can fight it again. She said, “What for?” I told her to sleep on it. I’ll visit again. Little do I know; those would be the last words she ever said to me.

I remember getting a call from that beautiful vivacious woman at the Christmas party who told me our dearest friend is going through the end-of-life process. She told me to be at the hospital to say my goodbyes by 6pm that night as they would administer the medication that would forever put my loved one to sleep. Because she was in so much pain, they administered the medication sooner. I never got to say goodbye to her or tell her how I felt or what she meant to me. So for the next few days, I would visit her everyday. One day, I brought my niece who she never met to say hi.

I even wrote her a letter in a little black notebook to tell her everything she meant to me. What she has done for me. That black book was filled with all my emotions and my love for her. How I’ll miss her. Why didn’t she consult me? I ugly cried so hard reading it. My hot wet tears soaked up the pages and blended all the words together. I was so choked up by sobs I never finished. I couldn’t. It hurt to speak; I was crying that hard. I also knew it was too late. She was gone. I know the nurses told me, she can hear me, but I knew they said that for me. She was gone.

I visited her for 7 days straight. Every time I visited her; I added an extra blanket on her body. I knew she was always cold. I always told her I loved her. One day, I saw that the nurses kept her shoulders bare. My dearest friend froze always so I went to tuck the blankets in and around her body covering her shoulders. I would tell her about my day. I would tell her the most mundane things in my life. On the last day, little did I realize her body had stopped fighting and that I would truly understand the meaning of the death rattle. Her body was shaking so hard. Her breathing patterns had changed. I thought she was cold and in a lot of pain. I put more blankets on her and told the nurses. I thought she was in so much pain I bent down and whispered in her ear, “It’s okay. You can go now. Tammy needs you more. Go and be happy with Tammy.”

I received a call the next day and was told she had passed. I was at work and I sobbed. I left work early and crawled into bed and openly wept in sorrow and loss. For that beautiful soul who touched my heart and my life. For moments that we celebrated and loss together. It isn’t everyday you are the one who has to put down her cat of 23 years while she is on the phone getting treatment.

She never had a funeral. I think it took me twice as long to realize she was gone. It delayed my grieving process. I never understood the true meaning of funerals until this moment. Funerals are not for the dead. It’s for the living who care about you. It allows them to visualize that you are gone. It allows a group of random strangers who all cared for you to come together and share memories of the person you were. It allows them to grieve together. I never got this. I never got closure. I never got to say goodbye.

3 months after she passed, I got a message from a friend of hers who told me she left me in her will and that I will be coming into some monies. I never expected this from her. She has since been gone for a year now. Part of her legacy to me was reminding me to reach for my goals and become who she always knew I could be. As such, I am now pursuing my dream of becoming a consultant. I am on a mission to write 100 proposals this year. I have written 15 so far and it’s only January. I miss her dearly. I can’t even write this ode to her without bawling. So, dear reader, I leave you with this final thought. What is a life to you? Death? Memories? Tears? Laughter? Joy? Make the most of everything because when it is taken from you, that’s all you have.