Monday evening, 11 April 2005 [8:00 p.m.]:
Hi, honey, it’s me again.Just got a new ‘phone bill and there is the bill from when I rang Lisa at the 108 Post Office trying to check on my package from you (which still has not come). Honey, it’s so sad – can’t you do something? PLEASE make her send it to me!
I know intellectually that you are gone but I still have this tiny part of me that keeps looking for you – it is driving me crazy not to be on the internet in case you message or email. I MISS YOU SO! I don’t know why I had to meet you, love you, lose you, I really don’t.
‘member how you told me to have a great life with no holding back? How is it I was supposed to hold back and not come to 108 in January/February? How is it that I am supposed to hold back and not seek out your family and info about you? Honey, my heart is breaking. I don’t know when I’ll ever be "normal" again, let alone live a "great life". How can I be positive like you wanted me to be when all this is going on? I was good to you, honey, I looked after you as best I could, and I don’t deserve what your family is dishing out. Remember when you said that nobody loved me as much as you did? Right then, we loved each other. Ya’, of course you used to love Colleen, of course you did, but right then, right then you loved me. (No bloody wonder her nose is bent out of shape.) Honey, you guys were together like years (sorry, I can’t remember how long anymore) but then things weren’t working out anymore and you were alone at 108. That’s how I found you – feeling hurt, alone and sick. You needed a friend and you found one in me. How were we to know what was going to happen between us? And it wasn’t anybody’s fault – not you, not me.
Of course, I wish I had met you sooner in your disease course so I could have worked with you a bit on Western and alternative therapies. That’s one thing that I don’t know much about – your first symptoms and diagnosis and clinical course. You told me when we had known each other only about two weeks one of the chemo drugs that you had but, damn it, I can’t remember, honey. Way back then I was such a stupid idiot and didn’t have any idea how much you’d wind up meaning to me and I can’t remember lots of things. I’m sorry, honey. [But you, funny thing that you are, told me like three times that you could type 80 w.p.m. – LOL! (let’s get our priorities right, eh?).]
The pressure in my chest is unbelievable and I cry so much, I am quite shocked by it all. Yes, I did promise you that I’d be OK (remember what you said when I said that? "Honey, I have to know it." – it was almost as if you weren’t going to leave if I wasn’t going to be OK) and I am trying as hard as I can to be OK. I suppose in a way I am OK, after all I haven’t committed suicide or done something stupid. Don’t worry about me confronting Colleen or Alison (unless, of course, it gets to be October or November and your jacarandas are out and your Sage hat still hasn’t arrived – I WILL NOT promise not to contact them then.) Damn, that just made me think about your daughter and wonder how she is doing. I hope she’s not grieving as much as I am for her sake and I hope she can get on with her studies and her life. I am sure you two made some Promises, too – good for you!
Missing you terribly –
- Susan
posted by Susan @ 11:48 pm
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