The Blue Wig

I've been trying to write this post for days now and for some reason the words keep getting trapped.  I guess the hardest part for me to share with you is the sadness that comes with this journey, and, unfortunately, last week was a sad week.  You see, as I was imagining my little parade in my living room to celebrate my chemo milestone, my grandfather's (step-grandfather to be exact, but that's just a technicality) life faded away.  Surrounded by all of his children and grandchildren (save me), my grandfather, David, took his last breath at the age of 88.  In some ways, you could say that his last moments were somewhat poetic.  He waited for all of his grandchildren to fly in from various parts of the world, and after meeting his newest great-grandchild, he quietly passed; a kind of affirmation of the cycle of life and the process of death and rebirth.  And yet, all I can dwell on is the fact that I couldn't be there.  I couldn't say goodbye, I couldn't hold my grandmother's hand to help quell her grief and loneliness, I couldn't do all the things that I would have done if it wasn't for my disease.  Instead I was paralyzed and isolated far away from my family unable to do anything at all.  I couldn't believe it.  At my age, I'M the one that's supposed to be strong and supportive, not the other way around.  But there I was, sitting on my couch, a complete chemo basketcase wishing I could fly out of my body to give my family the ginormous hug that my spirit was longing to give.   Well, unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, I still haven't mastered the art of out of body experiences, so I decided instead to spend a day wearing a blue wig.  Now I know what you're thinking.  What on earth does wearing a blue wig have to do with my grandfather dying.  Well, honestly, and I realize that I'm taking lots of drugs, and that I may have started to lose my mind, but I thought that maybe, just maybe, it would make my grandfather laugh, and frankly, I could use a laugh as well.  So out I went onto the streets of Manhattan in a bright blue wig, with one hot pink highlight, to show the universe that I could keep laughing through the sadness, and you know what I found out???  The universe started laughing with me.  Ok, maybe not the universe, but the people of Manhattan.  Amidst the stares and occasional confusion, for the most part people met me with grins and smiles.  As I timidly walked through the streets with tears running behind my sunglasses, my fellow Manhattanites fed me with their laughter and even cheered my bright blue bob.  Now I'd be lying if I told you that I wasn't still sad about losing my grandfather, but I find comfort, that maybe, just maybe I made him laugh with me amidst our distance and our mutual loss.  

I loved you very much David.  Thank you for filling in for my grandfather all of these years and giving my grandmother such unwavering love, support and affection for 25 years.   You will truly be missed.  May you rest in peace.

Straight from the trenches,

DT

PS Funny, I started out sad, and now I'm happy again.  Freakin' chemo.  I'm such a basketcase!