Saturday, October 25, 2008

Elisa

I hadn’t realized it had been ten days since I'd written. Time blurs when you’re always sick. Thank you, all who have dropped by with thoughts and hugs. I need them, and appreciate them.

I’m just back from Reading Week; rather, I came back yesterday. I spent the first weekend of it at the Ranch, hosting and having a really great time. I walked outside as much as I could. (Yes, Margaret, the roses are still there.) It took me forever to make it up the hill to the peace pole, but I got there. For the first time ever, I didn’t leave a prayer—I just sat with everything around me. And I walked around the refectory playing count-the-friends; I knew at least somebody in each of the groups.

Came back that Sunday night to go out and do field ed. Again, I’m in the right place. I love the work, and the people. The hours suck, but I knew that.

I spent the rest of the week with A. in the valley. I really wanted and needed to catch up on work—but instead I took a lot of naps. I don’t regret them.

I would have stayed this weekend and taken care of the cats, or perhaps gone back to the Ranch, but I had to come back for another training last night, and Elisa’s funeral this afternoon. She died on Monday. I miss her, and I’m more sad now than I had been. The service itself was wonderful—though crowded, and hot. I really, really wish I’d seen her more. Last I saw her was about six months ago, at church, shortly after my own diagnosis. I came back in the fall, busy and sick, and kept meaning to send her a card but didn’t do it. By the time I was back, my rector told me that Elisa had almost too much company. I didn’t talk to the person at church who was coordinating her visits. I wish now that I had just seen her once in the last while.

I’m not even sure what I want to thank her for—we weren’t even all that close. But she had a way of seeing people. And, she was funny as hell. In a sly, dry, blunt and honest way.

I know it’s a cliché, but you only have people while you have them. Notice the gifts all around you. This is what matters. Give your love, and your time.

I escaped a much more dangerous diagnosis by sheer dumb luck. I had the tumor for at least two years. Nobody was expecting me to get cancer; least of all myself. It happens. Elisa died. I live.

Love the people around you. Be a gift to them.

7 comments:

it's margaret said...

Oh Kirstin--thank you for the note about the roses. Certainly there are others who know that the roses are holy ground.

And I'm glad you got a chance to sleep and rest. You probably need that more than anything right now.

I understand your feelings about Elisa. Keep giving her and your feelings to God m'dear. All shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well....

Many blessings, sister--good to hear from you. Good to hear all of it. I love your plain talk!

Paul said...

Hi, Sweetie. Glad you had some time with the roses. Also that you visited the peace pole. Sometimes we need not pray but can simply sit with the prayers of others and that is more than enough. Blessings on your rest. +Maya Pavlova, Feline Bishop Extraordinary, commends naps in almost all her pastoral letters.

Sunday evening hugs.

Caminante said...

Kirstin,

Sorry for my silence -- I do pray for you every day and look for your next scrabble move :)

This moving is getting hairy so I am doing less cruising around in the blogosphere but do know you are in my thoughts.

Prayers for Elise and all who loved her and those whose lives she touched and prayers for you.
Lee

Ann said...

Catching up on your blog --- hugs and prayers.

Denise said...

I feel pretty stupid now. There I am lightheartedly demanding good blog gossip on facebook, and when I check out your blog, I discover you've been having major, major stuff going down. I'm SO sorry!

I haven't been around TH for awhile, so I probably missed it, but I've scanned your archives a little, and I'm happy to know that you can count yourself as a survivor. What a blessing! ((hugs))

Grandmère Mimi said...

Love the people around you. Be a gift to them.

Beautiful words, Kirstin. I'm still praying.

eileen said...

((((((((K)))))))))))

Prayers, and good thoughts.