My family has never been much for New Years’ Eve celebrations. I grew up with everyone staying home, having a nice dinner and watching the coverage from Times Square. While I don’t do wild partying in glamorous venues on the big night, I have a pretty good track record for preparing gourmet meals, popping a bottle of good champagne and seeing in the New Year with my Mom, either on a beach someplace or in my own home.
While the company was the same this year, the venue and the circumstance were very different. New Years Eve and Day this year passed in St. Luke’s hospital, where my mother was diagnosed with colon and liver cancer.
Clearly, 2009 is going to be a year of great challenge. Chemotherapy lies ahead. Lending strength. Organising a life. Mobilising friends to help. Providing emotional support. Learning more than I want about the medical system. Commuting as frequently as possible between St. Louis and London while still doing my job and staying solvent. Organising a house full to bursting with 30+ years of beloved stuff. Hoping for the best, preparing for the worst.
My own successful battle with breast cancer established “carpe diem” as my personal motto. None of us know how long we have; all of us should savour the beauty of each day as if it is our last. Most of us forget that fact in the stresses of everyday life. So much of what occupies our attention is glaringly unimportant when faced with the looming end of things.
So what are we going to do? For the immediate future, we’re still going on our cruise. The best place I can think of to suck the marrow out of life and throw one defiant finger up at the grim reaper is on a Caribbean beach. Preferably with an extremely potent drink in a coconut shell in the non-gesturing hand. We are going off to remind ourselves of what’s worth living for, in preparation to fight for life.
2 comments:
Whoa, chemo! God knows I hope it goes well for you.
New Years? A party this year (I blogged about it), but mostly the wife and I watch it on TV. When I was a boy, we were long since in bed.
Tell Joan Lee we are thinking about her... often. It's been... what 15 years since we vacationed together, I can still hear her laughing. (as I teased her)
Post a Comment