My last post was
August 28, 2011. It was about
Hurricane Irene, a distant memory of a forgettable, uneventful storm. I have no idea why I didn’t write
in September, October, November and December, but if you saw me now as I type
away on my laptop, you would see my dog, Sonny, lying on the keyboard because
my lap is unavailable. So maybe I
could blame him for my writer’s block because he is making this difficult. He has moved now to rest his head
on my wrist, so I could also blame him, eventually, for carpal tunnel syndrome
because I am still pecking away despite this inconvenience. There’s always one excuse or another
that could keep you from doing what you intend to do. I always intended to write, but found myself just not
writing, instead. I could get up
now but there’s something about a dog snuggling up to you that makes you want
to endure any discomfort. In a
sometimes cruel, cold and bitter world, an animal’s love always warms me.
While we are on the
subject of cruel, cold and bitter world, let’s talk about 2012. This past year has been one of
the hardest I have ever been through.
Hence, writing at all was not something that appealed to me. I was constantly in an emotional
turmoil. It began while I was away
on a business trip. Naturally, it
would happen while I was on a business trip because I travel about 50% of the
time. This time I was in
Providence and I got a phone call at around 7am from my husband, Mark, who had
fallen on the ice in the backyard while taking the dog out.
“I think I broke my shoulder,” he told
me through his pain and then proceeded to explain how disfigured it
looked.
“You probably
dislocated it,” I told him. Get
Kimberly to take you to the hospital emergency room.
About an hour later
I got a phone call from Kim while the doctors were trying to “relocate” Mark’s
shoulder.
“He’s not
cooperating,” Kim sighed. In the
background I could hear him screaming.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Well, they can’t
seem to put it back in, so they’re going to have to get the anesthesiologist.”
“Call me back when
it’s in,” I said.
Ten minutes later,
when Kim called, Mark’s screaming was replaced with his snoring that I could
hear as if I was there. “Done,”
she said, “And the doctor said that all the drugs he had in him could have put
all of us out, including you.”
That was a Tuesday,
January 17, 2012. The beginning of
what was to be a year that got worse and worse. That trip I worked until that Saturday, January 21st, when a big snowstorm
was due to arrive. The snowstorm
shortened my workshop to 1pm, when I got another phone call from my older daughter,
Lindsay, who was extremely distraught.
My brother-in-law, Scott- Mark’s brother, had collapsed. They did not know his condition. They only knew that he was taken to the
hospital and they were meeting my sister-in-law there.
I headed out to
Logan Airport in a snowstorm, uncertain of my brother-in-law’s condition, uncertain if the weather would delay me from getting to the airport and
uncertain if my flight would even take off. Luckily, I was travelling with a colleague and friend, Jenn,
who tried to provide me with reassurance that all would be well. But it wasn’t to be. While I was driving on I95, Mark called
and tearfully told me his brother was “gone”. Jenn drove the rest of the way home. I barely remember pulling off the
highway through tears as the snow fell around us. I do remember a police officer pulling over to ask if we
needed help when Jenn told him what happened.
There are no words
to describe how sad we were to lose Scott. He had a “larger than life” presence, the sweetest man I
knew, whose smile lit up a room and he was always smiling. When I look at my sister-in-law, his
absence is larger than life, as well.
Nothing prepares you to lose someone in an instant, especially when they
are 54 years old. They say time
heals. But time only makes you
used to the situation, really. It
just makes the initial shock more distant. The hurt and emptiness of loss never really fades.
Soon after Scott
passed away, near Valentine’s Day, Lindsay and Scott, my son-in-law, told us they were expecting
their first child on October 20th. Lindsay had decided to try to get pregnant when her uncle
died. She didn’t want to wait any
longer because she had learned that “life was too short.” We were elated. I was even planning to get back to my
writing and start a new blog, the sequel to Mother of the Bride: A Wedding
Journey, about becoming a grandmother.
Our joy was short-lived, though, because at her 12-week sonogram, we
found out the baby’s heart had stopped beating and had died at 10 weeks, 4
days. The curse of 2012 was
back. My reluctance to write
became even more intense.
And 2012, the year
to forget, went on dropping more and more misfortune onto our lives. Mark dislocated his shoulder three more
times- twice in his sleep and once when we were commemorating Scott’s six-month
anniversary of death at the beach while he was playing smash ball. We were supposed to scatter Scott's ashes on the beach that day. Mark knew that he probably needed surgery on his shoulder but
late in August his hernia started acting up and he had to get surgery on that, instead, which put him on disability for three weeks. I won’t even go into detail with the dental work he has to
go through, as well. Let’s just
put it this way- my husband is falling apart. I make him sleep with a sling now. My new pet name for him is "Humpty Dumpty".
2012 was not only a
miserable year for us, unfortunately, but for many others. As mild and nondestructive as Hurricane Irene was; Hurricane Sandy was quite the opposite. I remember lying in bed that night in late October with my mom and Kim after the power
went out, watching a movie on my iPad.
I cannot recall what movie it was; however, I can vividly remember the sound
the shingles of my roof made as they were blown off and hit the side of the
house. We had no power for two
weeks. But we were the lucky
ones. My brother-in-law’s home was
in the ill-fated Rockaways and the beach and boardwalk a block away from my
sister-in-law’s townhouse has become a memory just like my brother-in-law sitting
on his beach chair enjoying it.
The damage of Sandy will last way beyond 2012.
And just when we
were almost to the end of this calamitous year, in December, the unthinkable
and unimaginable happened– Sandy Hook Elementary School. Twenty first-grade children and six
school staff were gunned down leaving a bucolic and “safe” town in devastation. This catastrophic event left an entire world with profound grief
and questions, but also with the realization of how fragile life really
is.
On December 28,
Time Square held a Good Riddance Day 2012, where people had the opportunities
to destroy their bad memories from this year via mobile shredding truck,
dumpster or sledgehammer.
Hmm…as if it was that simple to alleviate the pain some have
suffered.
But I will not end
this with doom and gloom, even though this could be certainly called the year
of doom and gloom for many.
Because there is always hope.
My hope right now is the size of a sweet potato and she resides in my
daughter Lindsay’s belly. She will
enter the world in 2013 in June or quite possibly in late May. She represents the rainbow after the
storm and I sing to her every chance I get. I want her to know my voice when she arrives. She will be the fourth generation and I can just picture my mother holding her.
So, now I must
continue my writing because my stories will become my little sweet potato’s
legacy. I will even launch my new
blog in 2013: Mother of the Mother to Be: A Grandma Journey.
Happy New Year,
everyone! May 2013 bring you
peace, joy and happiness….
