I Take It All Back

I take back all the whining and complaining and general dourness over the past few months. I'll gladly go back to just being homesick and tired and overwhelmed. Cause that now seems like a dream compared to where I am now.

Just when I thought things were looking brighter -- a tough work project was a huge success, I was starting to feel like I had some friends, P is on his way to visit -- I got some pretty terrible news. My beloved stepdad, M, devoted (and only) grandfather to Lulu and Boo, and possibly the real-life Most Interesting Man in the World, is very, very sick. Like maybe only months to live sick, maybe a year or two if we're very, very fortunate.

I was so scared something like this would happen when I decided to come to Australia. M is 82, albeit in very good health, especially considering he had quadruple bypass surgery 18 months ago. But 82 is 82 and I was worried something would happen to him and I wouldn't be there. And it has. After some nagging back pain, he went to the doctor and was told the back pain is caused by tumors in his spinal column. They are also in his ribs and lungs.

I have such a range of emotions, I don't even know where to start. Of course there is the grief and sadness that we may soon lose M. He has been so kind and loving to me and my kids, and most important, my mom, who desperately needed and deserved a good marriage. Then, there's the parental anxiety of knowing that my kids are going to be very sad and wanting to both prepare and protect them. There's anger at being so far away and so helpless. Gratefulness for ex-H and L, who I emailed for help and who rose to the challenge splendidly -- staying with my mom and M through a very scary few days of roller-coaster medical opinions and decisions. They are family, however odd or unconventional.

Finally, panic at the flood of emotions this all brings back. I was only 8 when my father died and the aftermath was traumatic, to say the least. My mom was depressed and angry and scared, and as much as she loved my sister and I, and as hard as she tried, I never really felt she was OK. It was terrifying to think she might not make it through. I don't know how close she came to that -- probably not as close as I feared -- but there were days she just disappeared and I was so scared I wouldn't see her again. I don't have many childhood memories, but those days I remember like they were yesterday. I feel like I have a bit of PTSD... and I don't want to go through that again.

For now, I have to sit and wait. Depending on the news, we will go back for a visit as soon as we reasonably can, and we may even go back for good. If M only has a short time left, I want to be there for him and my mom as much as possible.