I
am well aware of the fact that I haven't posted anything on my blog in a
while. I am also aware that I haven’t completed the three-part series on
our Eurotrip yet. I have been in a mixture of shock and confusion the
last couple of weeks. Am still there, but starting to see the light, sort
of.
I
really want to share the Rome leg of our trip, but I feel very strongly that,
"before I tell you that story, I have to tell you this one.*"
So, here goes.
Last
May I attended a meeting where I was invited to try aqua aerobics
classes. I love swimming and, since we live in an apartment and have no
swimming pool, I jumped at the chance to get in the water. The addition
of exercise and company was just an added bonus. I wanted to be in the
water!
So
it came to be that I met Susan, our instructor of the weirdest form of aqua
aerobics I had ever heard of. More like water-Pilates than aerobics, but a
whole heap of fun, nonetheless. We were four giggling, slightly...
older... students and Susan, and we had ourselves a fine time, both in and out
of the water, with coffee and wine** sessions before and after most
classes. We discussed politics, books and movies; talked about hair,
nails and shoes; we ate snacks, drank coffee, water, Pepsi and wine. Sometimes
we even made it to the water! Our group dynamic was such that we all just
clicked. We had fun and before we really knew it, we were friends.
Now,
Susan and I did not have a bosom-buddy, bff-type relationship, but we liked
each other and got on really well. I liked her. She had a
restless energy to her, always busy, always going somewhere. Susan, a
tiny little American woman from a town called Magnolia, always had a broad
smile on her face, but great sadness hid in her eyes, a trait I find endearing
in people and normally end up befriending them.
Her
tale of sadness is not mine to tell, so forgive me for not sharing it with you.
I will tell you that I believe that sadness stayed with her always. It
impacted every aspect of her life. She did not have a lot of money and
worked six days a week, sometimes seven, to keep her head above water and to be
able to stay in Jordan, a country she seemed to love.
Despite
the sadness, hard work and lack of funds, Susan was always upbeat, always found
something to be happy about and always, always beamed that broad smile.
I
had my last aqua aerobics class with Susan two weeks before we left for
Europe. We made arrangements to meet for lunch the week before our vacation,
but due to dental appointments on both her and my side, we never got around to
it. When we talked that last week, I promised to call her after our trip
and arrange a lunch. Done deal and off the hubby and I went on a fantastic
vacation.
What
I did not know was that I would never speak to her or see Susan again.
While
André and I were happily traipsing around Europe, having ourselves a
magnificent time, Susan... Well... Susan woke up one morning with heavily
swollen feet, which lead to her going to the doctor for a check-up.
Please understand, this woman made a living as personal trainer, worked in a
gym, was super fit and the very picture of health. (Other than living on
cigarettes and Pepsi, of course!) Blood tests were done and she was
diagnosed with a very aggressive form of liver cancer that had already
metastasised. A couple of weeks later, Susan was gone.
We
came back from Europe and I was on such a high. We had an amazing time,
especially in Italy. Sun was shining, life was good. I did not call
Susan to set up lunch, as promised, during the first week that we came back. I
felt horrible about it but thought, "I'll call her next week".
But Susan stayed on my mind and by late Friday afternoon, I felt so guilty for
not calling her, that I took my cell phone and called. No one answered. I
decided to send her a message on Facebook, as I knew she checked her messages
there often.
Before
I could message her, my eye caught the very last message on her Facebook
page: "Miss Susan, you are in my prayers". This
was odd, so I scrolled down and read more posts, all conveying more or less the
same message. Prayers for strength, acceptance, piece. At first I
thought her elderly mother (she always referred to her only as Mother, so I
have no idea what Mother's name is) had passed away, or that she had
suffered some other type of family tragedy, but eventually I realised that
Susan seemed to be ill. She was so healthy! Maybe a car accident?
I
emailed another friend of ours, Sian, who gave me the devastating news:
Susan was very ill in hospital. Cancer. I felt like I was hit
by a ton of bricks and spent a lot of Friday night either crying or just
staring at stuff, numb. My beautiful husband said we will find out on
Saturday which hospital she is in and we will go and visit her. In the
middle of the night another message came from Sian: So sad. Susan
had passed away.
Since
I heard the shocking news of Susan's passing, I have been mulling things over
and over in my head, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to understand what
happened. Trying to forgive myself for not calling when I said I
would. Wondering what I would have said, had I called and found out she
was dying. What does one say, given those circumstances?
I
have been spectacularly blessed in my life. At the age of forty-two I
have only lost grandparents, distant relatives and acquaintances to death.
I have never lost anyone really close to me, a fact for which I am so
grateful, as I realise that not a lot of people of my age can say that.
But, the thing is, I am supremely unprepared for this and am having a very
difficult time coming to grips with the facts of... death. Can one ever
be prepared for it, though?
I
cannot believe that I will never see her again, never hear her say "quack-quack,
ladies***" That we will never have that lunch. That my
friend who lived for her cats and had the biggest smile, is gone.
So,
I am trying to make some sense of this. All I have come up with, so far,
are clichés. She's no longer suffering. Life is short. Live in the
moment. Cherish your loved ones while you can****. None of these
platitudes really make me feel better, although I know them all to be true.
I
guess I just need to ride it out. It is my turn to feel that Tap on the
shoulder. That not-so-subtle reminder. Don't just be alive.
Live. And call when you say you will.
*
From Dav Pilkey's book "The Adventures of Captain Underpants"
**
Ok, mostly wine
***
Referring to an exercise called "The
Duck", most of our group's favourite exercise and the one we performed
with the most enthusiasm, next to "The Flamingo" of course!
****
Which reminds me of the poem by Robert Herrick: "To the Virgins, to Make
Much of Time"
To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time
by Robert Herrick
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.
That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry;
For having lost but once your prime,
You may forever tarry.
