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Nonfiction, Memoir, Fabulist Fiction & Poetry
Can’t speak for any of you, but when I’m angry, I write. Might meet it head on, might come at it from behind, might ambush it from the side. Doesn’t matter. I write to bring it out, expose it, maybe even try to make sense of it (assuming there’s sense to be made, which too often isn’t the case).
So this post isn’t about about elephants or writing or ice cream or summer or any of the other things I typically write about.
Because I’m angry.
I’m beyond angry. I’m enraged. I’m also frustrated and horrified and hands-up-drop-em-down-mind-boggled-what-the-fuck-do-we-do-NOW?
You all know that feeling of evil surprise — that “where the hell did that come from” sensation, like you’ve stepped on the business end of a rake and snapped the handle up ka-POW! right between the eyes. In some ways, I haven’t been this angry since a young woman I barely knew, a lovely girl named Rebecca, died in June 2011
My rage is two-fold.
Yesterday, my brother Gene’s son, Josh, died. The particulars aren’t pleasant, but they aren’t mine to share, and it’s really nobody’s business and it isn’t important anyway except to those who knew him. Suffice to say that Josh’s demons won, dammit to hell. He leaves behind a grieving father and step-mother, four children, friends, and relatives. He drove them crazy. He worried them incessantly and, sometimes, unnecessarily. He refused to believe in his own self-worth. And now he’s gone and there ain’t no coming back from that.
Today, I discovered that a woman I met on Facebook, someone who’s become a dear long-distance friend, has been diagnosed with multiple myeloma.
She writes: “Multiple myeloma is a cancer of the plasma cells in the bone marrow.
The cause of multiple myeloma is not known. Risk factors for multiple myeloma have not been established although researchers have suggested genetic abnormalities, such as c-Myc genes or environmental exposures, may play a role. The prognosis for myeloma is only fair. Median survival is about three years, but some patients have a life expectancy of 10 years.
Well, darn it.”
Darn it, indeed. Darn it to Hell.
Melissa Crandall 
Life can be very, very painful at times. My son has been struggling with a mental disorder and depression for years. He has thought about suicide and tried to take his own life several times. As his mother, the pain and worry has been excruciating at times. Now my beautiful angel of a mother has cancer. We take it one day at a time, but it sucks big time. My mom is my best friend and confidant, She has always been a large part of my life. I can’t imagine going on without her, but I have to. My son needs me and my precious grandson keeps me sane. I feel your pain. Love and prayers to you and your family for such a painful loss. May our Lord bless you all and give you strength during this most difficult time in your lives.
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Paula, you are an extraordinary woman, and I hope you know that. In the midst of your own pain and difficulties, you rise above it all to offer love and prayers to others. You are a role model for us all.
I was sorry to read about your son’s difficulties. I have two people in my family who also struggle with mental disorders – depression, anxiety, etc – so I know first-hand how arduous this road can be. I hope your son finds his strength to go forward.
Also sorry to hear about your mom. She sounds like a wonderful woman. Having lost my mom just two years ago, I completely “get” what you’re feeling.
Send your kindness most especially to my brother Gene and his family, and to Suzi who is just beginning her battle. You’re one terrific lady.
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Thank you for your kind words Melissa. I feel the same about you. I am glad we connected in high school. I feel the connection is still there. I have been truly blessed and try to spread kindness to others and give many smiles. I will keep you and your family in my thoughts and prayers.
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Likewise on all counts, Paula. Be well.
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