Weathering the Storms of Life

As I sit here resting on my bed, I am trapped beneath the sometimes mind-numbing weight of my laptop computer and the warmth of my sweet cat, Callie, who is cleaning herself as I make the choice to busy my fingers by blogging.  It has been a stormy couple of weeks here in Southern California, from our white Thanksgiving up in Lake Arrowhead, to our first three rainy days of Chanukah at sea level.  There has been a lot on my mind, lately, as the news began with Jack, our eight year old little buddy who has tragically relapsed with neuroblastoma, to something which has laid very heavily on my heart since a few days after my brother died, almost twenty months ago.  Both the relapse of angel-boy Jack, and the constant reminders that my brother is no longer a phone call away, have caused me to remain ever-so focused on the fragility of life.  Of course, as with the storms which we have been experiencing in the weather, there are breaks of blue amongst the grey.  Beautiful lapses in storm cells that allow the spirit to regenerate, dry off and prepare for the rain, once again.  But sometimes the weight on the heart can feel almost suffocating.  And the only thing that can free my saturated soul is to release the words.

 I have thought long and hard about sharing some of the more difficult details of my life here, on my blog.  And I have done so with cautious abandon, finding that releasing the words and then soaking in the support which seems to come as a result of it, makes many of those details feel less burdening.  I suppose that is why painters paint, and sculptors sculpt, and writers write.  There is something about being in the midst of a storm and then sharing it, that allows us to understand that we are not the only ones who have ever gotten drenched.  And that sometimes, by being reminded that there are others who have stood threadbare in the pouring rain, with their clothes sticking close to their bodies like a second skin, we might remember to accept the offered shelter of a shared umbrella.

And so the words now come.  For those of you who have followed my blog for a while, you might remember that I have four angel daughters who came from my body, but that there are two more angels whom I consider just as important.  My Angel Nieces.  Before my brother died, he and his wife and their two little girls who are now six and eleven, had a loving, close familial relationship with my family.  I will not go into detail about the days that followed after my brother's death, but they were some of the darkest days of my life.  The harder that I tried to be of support to my sister-in-law, the more she pushed me away.  I thought she just needed time.  I tried to convince myself that she was grieving and that I could accept being at the brunt of her anger, if that is what might make her feel better.  When I say that I have never done anything to deliberately upset or hurt her, it is the truth.  When I say that I have taken more negativity from her than anybody I have ever known in my life, it is truth.  I did not lash out, I did not get angry, I did not defend myself.  I wanted to see my nieces, my brother's children and if that meant accepting a few blows, then so be it.  For the first six months after my brother passed, I was not permitted to see my nieces.  I cannot express the toll which that took on my family.  I never stopped calling.  I never stopped trying and finally, my SIL agreed to get together with us.  I was overjoyed.  My nieces were so happy.  Mark and my four daughters were thrilled.  And then it happened again.  My SIL withdrew my nieces from our lives as if they were objects and not children.  Once again, I begged and pleaded.  I wrote a general letter apologizing for things that I hadn't even done, grasping, grasping because I felt my nieces slipping away the way my brother had done.  A month or so after I sent the letter, we called to wish my youngest niece a happy birthday.  My SIL never answers the phone, but we were accustomed to leaving messages.  To my delight, we got a call back and once again, without any reference to the letter I sent, or any explanation as to why we were cut off, we were allowed to begin seeing the girls again.  This went on for several months.  I was still treated very poorly by my SIL, but I was willing to put up with whatever was necessary in order to keep the girls in our lives.  The last time we were allowed to see my nieces was back in June.  After that, with no regard to her own children's feelings, with no concern for my children's feelings and for absolutely no regard for what my brother would have wanted, we were once again, cut off.  At first, my SIL would tell me that she was "too busy" to make time for us.  I kept trying.  She finally agreed to see us in September, but only for "a very short visit".  The day before we were supposed to get together, she left a message on my voicemail saying that her plans had changed and that they would not be seeing us after all.  I called her back and she actually answered her phone.  She was extremely cold and very rude.  I took a breath and asked her if we could please just keep the plans that we had.  She told me no.  I began to cry and told her that it had been three months since we had seen each other.  She told me to stop it and that it had NOT been three months but two months and two weeks.  I asked her to please tell me the truth about what was going on.  She told me that she was hanging up because I was attacking her.  I told her how much she and the girls mean to our family.  She told me not to call, not to leave her anymore messages and to leave her alone.  She was as cold as ice.  I finally hung up in tears.  Not only did I cry for my own loss, but also at the thought of what my poor, poor brother must have had to live with everyday of his marriage.  I knew there were problems.  I just never knew how deeply they ran.  I realized that just as I was remaining quiet to appease my SIL, so must he have done the same as her husband.  The tears came for a very, very long time.  And then, I reached the only resolution that I possibly could.  I hired an attorney.

Most people have heard of something called Grandparent's Rights.  At the same time, most people do not realize that the law is also written to include aunts and uncles.  We have been in the process of putting our visitation claim together for almost two months.  The last two weeks were spent with the process server trying to serve my SIL with the court documents.  She ducked service four times.  She had no idea what he was trying to deliver.  She is just an extremely disagreeable individual.  Several weeks ago, our attorney submitted a petition to the court to find out if our case would even be heard.  There was a possibility that it would be dismissed without a hearing.  Not only was it accepted by the Judge, but he set a mediation date, as well as a court date.  We recently found out from our attorney that my SIL's newly-hired attorney has already requested a continuance.  This means that the case will be pushed out even further.  I can wait.  I have been patient for twenty months.  I have done everything within my capabilities to resolve this without legal intervention.  I have even allowed myself to be treated as a scapegoat.  I have been pushed into a corner but now the continuation of this story does not depend on the whims of my SIL.  I have taken my power back.

For now, there is a bit of a break from the storm.  The rain has stopped.  Mark and I walked for hours on the beach today.  He kept asking me if I wanted to turn back, but I said no.  The sun felt too good.  I felt too strong.

When I was finally left by myself tonight, I began to think.  And in thinking, I ventured towards some frightened places in my heart.  The "What if?"places which can only be answered with time, but that I am sometimes foolish enough to think that I can answer all on my own.  It was then that I decided to write.  It was then that I decided to toss out the last vestige of fear that was keeping me from releasing the words.  It was then that I fully accepted that it is not me who has anything to hide from.  It was then that the words began to tumble from my fingertips from the grey and into the white.  I feel like I am taking them out from behind the clouds and placing them into the light.


Thank you so much for visiting Jack, and most especially, for leaving such loving messages for him and his beautiful family.  He has begun to read them himself, and he now has a map of the world on which he maps out all of the faraway places from which his visitors come.  Please continue to stop by his site.  He will be starting palliative treatment, tomorrow, which means that things are about to get even harder.