Loss of Innocence

Loss of Innocence

 

Life is funny and I am definitely one who has learned to find the humor whenever possible. Even when things are grim, the circumstances are tragic...I've always been the one to try to use humor to help lighten the situation. I guess it has always been that way. Don't get me wrong. There have been and are times in my life when I can't find the funny side. Times when I have fallen and felt like I could not get back up. But with the help of friends, family and a strong will that was genetically passed down to me (and learned) I rubbed some dirt on it and moved on.

 

One of the things, or should I say many things, is when you stop being a child. The exact moments when parts of your innocence is lost. For some people a jaded place takes root. For some it becomes a black tarnish on their soul, aura, and very being. It becomes a hated spot deep inside because the blinders come off.

The first loss of innocence, for me, when a very, very close friend was diagnosed with Leukemia as a teen. I didn't understand it and I didn't cope with it very well. I never visited him in the hospital because I could not face the fact that someone not much older was sick. He died and I still was in denial. At the funeral I sat at the back row of a very packed church. I got up and left because I STILL was in denial. There was NO way someone close to my age, that I loved as a friend and spent a great deal of time with.

I realized that people close to you die but it truly had not hit home yet. That came with the loss of my Papa. I worked at the hospital in the kitchen as my college job, and my mom was my boss. He had been admitted. We knew it was bad but I didn't realize how bad until my mom pulled me into her office and told me that the doctor had given him 6 months to live and it was a brain tumor.

I walked into the hallway, saw my big, burly, larger than life, Paul Bunyan Papa in a wheelchair. I broke down crying. One more piece of innocence lost. They took him home and that is where he remained. For about a month I avoided going to visit which was a RARE thing for me. This was the home I had spent EVERY summer, all summer and every vacation and every weekend I could. This is where I went between college classes to hang out, have lunch etc. I had even lived there for a time. I couldn't face the fact that a man I loved so very, very much was leaving me. I was angry. I was SCARED. I didn't know how to talk to someone who was going to leave and never return.

Another piece of innocence was lost.

I finally did muster the courage to face myself and my fears and I went to him. I went into the bedroom, sat down, and started crying. I apologized for leaving him. He wasn't as big. He had already given up. I hadn't deep inside. There was that spark of hope that this was a mistake on the doctor's part. He waited for me to stop bawling, pulled me close to his hospital bed and said, "I understand. I love you." He forgave me for something that to this exact day I have never forgiven myself for. I didn't miss another day with him until he died. I wasn't there when he died though. I had driven home hurriedly to shower and change. He passed while I was not there. Courtney called me and said, "Shon...get back here now." I knew what had happened.

 

Another piece was gone but this time much, much bigger because mortality hit at that exact moment.

 

If my mom had just lost her father, and later her mother, then....I was going to lose them some day. I cried even more at the funeral. I mourned my Papa leaving me. No more creek trips. No more tractor rides. No more rice hauling trips in his big red semi. No more me fixing him lunch. No more watching baseball with him. But I suddenly realized one day I would lose my parents.

That was the hardest piece of innocence I have ever lost.

 

My Granny died years later and I mourned that I hadn't spent more time with her but I lived hours away, had two kids, a husband, a household and a full time job.

 

My father passed away 11 months ago today. For some reason I did not have my phone next to my bed that night before. But I woke up around 4:00 am. I had many missed calls and tons of text messages telling me to call home. I knew what had happened. I called and Courtney said, "Come home now. Dad is gone." My response was, "No. No. No. No he is NOT gone." I crashed to my knees and Dave came running out. I screamed and I cried. I was over 2000 miles away and I had NOT been there again.  I had visited in August and we had talked but once again we had not really had "THE" conversation that hangs over anyone's head who has a terminal illness. I avoided it. I teased him and we laughed. We watched TV together. He hugged me so many times and I never wanted to let go. My larger than life dad was going to leave me but wait! I still had that spark of hope.

 

It hasn't gotten easier. In fact the last 3 weeks have gotten worse. But today the last of my innocence died. I realized that one day I would lose the woman I love the most in the entire world. The woman who I am more like than anyone else. My sister, Sasha,  inherited Dad's demeanor and ability to dazzle people. I told people at his visitation that I got dad's figure and she got his personality. Courtney is mini-Stan except quieter.

 

But me...I get mom. I understand how she works because I work like her, well except physically because that woman gets stuff done. Oh and she cooks better than anyone I've ever known. I love this woman with my entire heart. There is NOTHING I would not do for her. But eventually I will lose her. Part of me is selfish and wants to go before because then I wouldn't lose that part of my heart and soul.

But then I remember a blog I wrote a few months ago. I pray every single night that I NEVER have to bury one of the girls. I could never survive and would not want to survive if I lost them. So I find myself torn between selfishness and knowing someday my heart will break.

 

My mom will read this and probably tell me she will whip my ass for even thinking that thought.

It is a loss of innocence and a conundrum. You know as you start to grow older that your parents begin to get older as well. No one escapes time. No one. Life moves on.

Next month will be the hardest of the 8th's. It will be one year. I will grieve quietly here 2000+ miles from the rest of my family. I am going back, no matter how painful it will be, on Thursday because I have to go back. It will be hard physically. It will be hard mentally. It will be a very short visit because of doctor visits, more tests and physical therapy that I will immediately return to,  but it is something I have to do for myself.

So if you talk to me next month on the 8th...understand if my voice catches and tears come to my eyes. Just nod but don't tell me you understand. Just let me know you are there for me if I need you. Hug me. Pat me on the shoulder.

 

For those that know what I've been dealing with these past 3 weeks or so, and who actually believe me and don't think it's the medicine, I leave you with this:

"Just when the caterpillar thought her life was over...she became a butterfly."

Namasté