Cancer

A man named Leroy Sievers died on Friday. He was a journalist for NPR who was battling cancer and blogging about his experiences. He was 53.

I didn't know Mr. Sievers by any means; I wasn't even a regular reader of his blog. But as the first anniversary (yahrzeit) of my grandmother's death approaches, I guess I'm more sensitive to these things.

It was weird reading about Mr. Sievers' experiences with cancer. With my grandmother it was so private, so hidden from me. I had no idea of 3/4 of what she went through.

As you know, I've contemplated my own mortality quite a bit in this past year, and not exactly in a good way. Death is a scary thing. We know it's imminent, yet when it happens, it's like we didn't know it was coming. And after it happens, we never want to mention it again.

When my grandmother died, I tried so hard to be strong. I had to be there for my dad and my brother. But that all stopped after my grandfather's persistent attempts to get me to go through my grandmother's closet, or my mom yelling at me for not doing what she asked. I remember sneaking downstairs in the apartment building and "hiding" until my dad called my cell and found me. It was then that I broke down.

Grandpa Seymour wanted to give me as much of her stuff as he could, mostly stuff I would never use or didn't want. With Dad's help, we gave a lot of it to charity and I didn't feel uber-guilty about not taking it. Now my grandfather and my uncle have been straightening up the apartment and he'll call me up randomly, offering me items of hers that "she just loved." All he had to do is mention her name and he's got me. Last week it was an umbrella and a change purse; next week, who knows?

I will never forget my grandmother. That is an undeniable fact. But I don't need blouses or umbrellas to do so. I also don't like talking about her as if there's some karmic connection between people who are dead and people who are living. (I don't believe in anyn kind of spiritual afterlife.) The biggest way I know she is still connected to us is because my brother's going to college. Not that he wouldn't have anyway, but that was something she really wanted him to do.

I remember when we first found out about my grandmother's cancer. it was 2002, a rough year for my family in general. My brother and I were kept pretty isolated from everything that was happening, so we didn't know a lot. But she was a fighter. She set goals for herself to keep her going. First, in 2003, she wanted to do the chicken dance at my brother's bar mitzvah. Then, in 2005, she wanted to see her first grandchild (me) graduate high school and go to college. Her next was goal was to see my brother (and cousin) graduate from high school in 2008. She lost the battle 9 months too early, but that was enough for my brother. He worked exceptionally hard this past year. He adored our grandmother, and has actually designed and planned to get a tattoo based around her name. (Seriously.)

How do I remember my grandmother? I work as hard as I can at everything I do, because I know that's what she'd want me to do. And that's the best way I can think of to honor her memory.

So, first of all, Mr. Sievers, I thank you for sharing your experience, painful as it may have been. You made cancer real to me, and I appreciate you helping me understand what my grandmother went through. Rest in peace.

And if there is an afterlife and she is in heaven, telling God to turn on the heat because it's too cold, rest in peace, Grandma June, and know that you'll always be remembered. I love you and miss you.

Liz