One Year.

Monday February 12th 2007.

One Year Ago during Jeopardy…

It is funny how easy it is for me to write out my thoughts about training in this blog. I have learned that I quickly can gather my ideas after a run, and then type out a post for the world (or
maybe just the few friends of mine bored at work or in class) to see. Granted, I am not sharing my absolute innermost thoughts with you all, but I am pretty open about my training and the emotions that surround these past few months. Well, the past week has been a difficult one for me. I realize that the majority of my entries lately have sounded like Debbie Downer wrote them, but then by the end of each, a bit of the hopeful and positive Lindsey speaks up. I cannot guarantee that this entry will generate the same.

Here I am, writing the hardest blog entry to date. The entry that will not be grammatically correct simply because it is impossible for me to fully express exactly what I am feeling. The entry that I have been thinking about throughout my past few runs and workouts. The entry that I know makes me so emotionally vulnerable to the internet community, but I will write it anyway. The entry that has led me to tears every time I sit down at my computer and actually tell myself: “I need to write this.”

One year ago today, my Auntie Nancy passed. All of last week, I was thinking of what I was doing this time last year.

February 1st, 2007:

Despite the hectic 1L schedule, I had the chance to get a weeknight visit in to see her. Auntie Nancy, my mom, my grandmother and I had dinner at my grandmother’s condo. My Auntie Nancy was just told that day that the chemo was not working any more and she should stop treatment. I remember how hard it was at dinner seeing her realize that even though she wanted to keep fighting, she was not allowed. The cancer was bigger than all of us in the room. After dinner, my grandmother went to play Mah Jong with her girlfriends downstairs, and my mom went to an open house for her school. I had an hour alone with my aunt, and it was absolutely amazing. I had just received the offer letter for my summer internship at the federal prosecutor's office, and was able to show it to her. I knew she was proud, especially given that this was the area of law in which I wanted to practice. I also knew that she would not be around to hear the stories of the summer. We watched Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy together (her two favorite shows). Later, my mom called to tell me that she was on her way back from the open house. Despite how weak she was, my Auntie Nancy walked me to the door. She gave me a kiss, said “I love you” and said “Don’t be afraid to come back often.” I responded: “I promise I will see you soon.”

And I did…just not in the conditions that either of us would have wanted.

One week and a few days later, my Auntie Nancy’s cancer took over. They brought her to a hospice home. My grandmother, Aunt Elyce and Mom did not want us seeing her. But my sister and I knew we had to say goodbye.

I knew I promised her that I would see her again. I could not break that promise.

Saturday February 10th:

Ashley and I drove to hospice to say goodbye. According to my mom, the most that my Auntie Nancy opened her eyes in hospice was when my sister and I were there. She wanted to stay strong for her nieces. I still look back knowing that day was the hardest one of my life. There is no way to describe what it is like to say goodbye to a loved one for the last time. I will forever remember what she looked like on that day, but I refuse to let these be my lasting memories of my Auntie Nancy. I remember holding her hand, and telling her some of my favorite memories with her, like our foliage trips with my mom and sister. I remember telling her that she will always be my "favorite youngest aunt on both sides of the family" (a title that she always took pride in). When Ashley and I did finally say goodbye to Auntie Nancy, it looked like she mouthed back “I love you” and tried to blow kisses. She knew we were there.

Ashley and I drove away and the sky looked eerily beautiful. We decided this was our Papa telling us it was OK, and that he would take care of Auntie Nancy.

Monday February 12th:

I remember sitting with my friend Anna in the cafeteria late on that Monday night as I tried to get ahead on work because I was told my aunt likely would pass that week. I do not remember exactly what Anna said to me, but I remember that her words offered me comfort about the unknown feelings I was about to experience. I remember that after Anna walked away, I could not help but think of how surprisingly supportive all my friends in law school were thus far. I spoke on the phone with one of my best friends, Sheede, who was in LA for a work conference. My father called while I was on the phone with her. I figured this was “the call.” Anytime a family member called me, I got sick to my stomach and assumed it was the call. I clicked over. He was walking the dog in the freezing cold, and expressed nerves about a snowstorm coming in that week that could cause problems with the impending funeral. He then yelled at the dog, and he got disconnected. I assumed the dog was annoying him, so I figured I would call back when I packed up and got home.

I remember not hearing back from my dad, so I called him. I know exactly where on the fourth floor stairway of the law school I was when my dad told me: “That was mom on the phone when I clicked over…She’s gone.” Auntie Nancy passed away in the middle of Jeopardy. I remember having to call my Bobi (my dad’s mother) to tell her what had happened, and have her “make calls.” I remember calling Sheede just less than an hour after I had talked to her, to now tell her that my Auntie Nancy died.

I remember feeling guilty that night because I wanted to cry and I couldn’t.

I had no more tears left.

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TODAY
February 12, 2008

One year later…man I cannot believe it has been a full year. I look at what has gone on this year, and the only thing that seems significant is Auntie Nancy's passing. I sit here writing this entry with tears pouring down my face. If you asked me right now if I am healed from her loss, the answer is no. If you ask me if I ever will heal, I cannot really answer that.

However, Auntie Nancy's passing really was my reality check on life. I have learned a lot about, and at times have re-evaluated, the relationships that I have invested in over the years. I have found friendship in the most random of places. I have rekindled relationships with people who were a part of my life ten years ago. I have become so much closer with my family, and have realized that Boston will forever be my home. I talk to my parents daily. Unfortunately, I needed to lose someone as important to me as my favorite youngest aunt to have such a reality check.

Tonight, at the year anniversary of the hour of Auntie Nancy's passing, I will not be watching Jeopardy. Instead, I will be at the Tufts track training to run my first marathon to raise money for the hospital that gave my Auntie Nancy hope until the very end. Obviously, today, more so than many other days, I think about why I am running the marathon. I think that my Auntie Nancy would be incredibly proud that I am doing this. But, naturally, I also have my own form of guilt, wishing I had thought to run for Dana-Farber sooner...while she was alive, so that she could have possibly been cured. I wonder how many more Dana-Farber Marathon Challenges I will want to run before I feel completely healed, and feel that I have done what I can. I do not have the answers to any of this. This is all disconcerting to say the least, but I do believe in fate, and do hope that these answers will come soon enough to give me the strength that I need to let go.

I miss you, Auntie.