For now

From December 22, 2007

Karen's funeral started about 20 minutes ago.  I have been thinking about her family, her friends - some of them our mutual friends - and wondering how they are doing.  I know they can't possibly be doing very well. 

Karen and I were never incredibly close, but we've been friendly or friends since my freshman year in college in 1988.  Karen's college roommate and high school friend Tracy became (and remains) one of my best friends, and my college roommate Laurie and continued friend became (and remained) one of Karen's best friends.  For the five years I lived in Lexington, Kentucky, I saw Karen regularly.  We went to parties together, ate meals together.  I remember sledding together with a group of friends.  I was not in Karen's wedding, but both Tracy & Laurie were bridesmaids, and I still remember it pretty well; how happy Karen & Kyle both were, how happy I was for them, how much fun I had at their wedding reception.  I made and decorated the cake for Karen's bridal shower.  In the year after I graduated from college, Tracy and Laurie and I shared an apartment in the same complex where Karen and Kyle lived, right across the way.  My dad still remembers Karen from Laurie's wedding that year, how she danced and hummed to the music.

In the years since then, Karen and I haven't remained in close touch, but we've always been fond of each other and happy to see each other.  That fall, Karen and Tracy and Laurie and her husband all flew up to Chicago for a visit.  I remember us ducking our heads against the wind from the lake as we hurried to museums downtown.  I remember that Karen's ride on the plane to Chicago from Louisville was her first time on a plane.  Later Karen and I were both bridesmaids in Tracy and Tim's wedding.  I remember getting drunk on amaretto at Tracy's bachelorette party and feeling sorry for myself, having recently broken up with my long-term boyfriend Allen.  I remember Tracy and Karen comforting me. 

Karen had three children: a girl, Kellie, who is now 11; a boy, Kevin, who is now 9, and another boy, Kasey, who is almost 4 (only a couple of months younger than Katie).  I happened to be visiting Laurie when Kevin was born, so we visited Karen in the hospital and saw the brand new baby and the shy older girl, Kellie.  When Laurie was pregnant with her son Jack, Karen and I were both at Laurie's baby shower.  And in more recent years, when I've visited Laurie, several times we've planned a visit with Karen and her kids (her husband, Kyle, was often at work).  Last summer Karen & Kyle and all three kids came up to Chicago for a vacation, and Geoff and Katie and I had dinner with them.  It was really nice to see them, and Katie and their kids had a good time together.

Then last week, barely a week before Christmas, Karen got a horrible headache, and a few days later, she died from a brain aneurism.  Her 9 year old son called 911 for her.  Her husband was in Japan for work, and came home right away - they kept Karen on life support until he could get there. 

And other than the ones above, I don't really have words to talk about Karen and her death, how frightening and sad and awful and nonsensical it all seems.  How I have been grieving the fact that she is not going to get to be here while her children grow up, how they won't get to have her in their day to day lives, and how her husband is going to have to manage a whole new way of life without her.  And I keep wondering how or whether they will manage to find any joy in their Christmas.  I have been praying for their whole family, and for my friends who were also her friends.  I wish any of this made sense.

From January 3, 2008

The postscript to this is that on Christmas Eve, I went to work in the morning.  Geoff and Katie were home together, and I expected to leave work early.  Shortly after I got to work, Geoff and I were instant messaging each other.  He told me about his horrible headache.  We talked a little more, and then later, I sent him a message and he didn't respond, so I called him on the phone.  There was no answer.  I thought maybe they had gone out to run an errand, so I called him on his cell phone.  Still no answer.  A little later, I called home again and left a message.  Soon after that, I called the cell again.  It had been about a half an hour since I first tried to tell him something, and suddenly I remembered his horrible headache, and started to panic.  I thought about how Katie didn't know how to answer the phone if we weren't there to tell her to push the "talk" button, and wondered what she would do if Geoff had fallen unconscious.  I wondered if she would be ok in the time it would take for me to get there.  I wondered how I would make it, what I would do, if I didn't have Geoff in my life, and I thought about how much I loved him, and how very much I would miss him.  When he finally answered the phone with a jaunty hello, I was starting to cry. 

He was all right (of course he was).  We are all right.  It was been a hard year, with my miscarriage and Stephanie's death, but here we are, and I am still pregnant, and we are all still healthy, and we had a very nice Christmas.  I am hopeful that 2008 will be a better year. 

And yet I keep thinking about the bad things that might happen, that could happen, with no warning.  For no reason.  At any time.  I think how we are all right, for now.  And I wish that "for now" felt like enough, and that it didn't have to be.

Comments

[Allison]

I'm so sorry that you are going through this... I find myself doing the same sort of thing ... too often. And fallying prey to my fears that something like that could happen to me. It is my worst fear that my children will grow up without me... it eclipses any other fear I've ever had in my life. I try to seize the moment and live for today... and I keep a journal for them... for when they are older, so they can see what I hoped for them, what I adored about each age, what drove me nuts... and most of all so they have something concrete to see my love for them... just in case. It's morbid to write that, but it's true... I cannot let go of that fear. It doesn't rule my life anymore (when I was a new mom it sure did) but it is always lurking in the back of my mind. Motherhood is HARD.

[Lori]

Oh, Jessie -- big hugs to you! I experienced my first death of a friend a couple of years ago, and it was very, very hard and still makes me sad, even though we hadn't been really close since high school. It is such a shock that bad things can happen to the best of our friends, people our age and in our place in life. We're facing our own mortality as well.

I wish you a 2008 full of joy and wonder.

[jana]

I'm so glad to read that I'm not the only one who does this...imagines a missed phone call means a terrible accident, a sudden illness, etc. You don't have to have bad things happen to you to imagine the worst. Poet Beth Ann Fenelly has a poem about sitting at the table with her daughter and husband, having a lovely evening, and then imagining the gods outside the home, looking in and plotting to destroy their happiness. We all imagine those plotting gods, I think.

I wish you a joyfilled 2008, too. I think it'll be wonderful for you all.

[lisa]

I know exactly how you feel! I got married this year to a wonderful man, and we bought a house and have two cats and two great sets of parents that live in town and close by so we are able to see them often. My husband has a brother who lives nearby and I have a sister that we see often as well. We have several very close friends that we see often too, and some that live out of town that we don't see as frequently, but we both love very much. My parents both just retired in the past year and they are enjoying all the time they get to spend together now. I feel so lucky and so blessed that I have so many people so close to me that I love so much. At the same time though, I feel very scared about ever losing any of this, or any of these people I hold so close to my heart. All anyone can do is enjoy the time that they have and make the best of it, and make sure that the people who you love know that they are loved.

I wish you and yours a good and happy 2008. Also, I forget that you lived in Kentucky for a while. Greetings from a Louisville, Kentucky native and current resident!

[Miss Wisabus]

I do hope that your 2008 is a better, more blessed year. I, too, can relate with the worry of losing all the wonderful things that you have. After losing a dear friend in September, my mortality became painfully real and I worried about losing others that were close to me. I guess...I guess all that we can do is live and hope. And love them while they're here.

[Wendy M.]

I am so sorry to hear this. What an incredibly sad story. My heart goes out to everyone involved.