...and sometimes "why"

I’m sitting in my room in the Hotel Deca, in the University District of Seattle. I’m less than a mile away from my old house in Seattle, where I lived with Krista and Erin, back in the year 2000. I remember when I was a kid, and I looked forward to that year, thinking...”man, I’ll be 34”. I figured by then, we’d all be wearing silver clothes, and flying around in cars. I remember the Y2K obsession, my rampant cannabis addiction, and my hopes of finally becoming the kind of father my daughter, Meg deserved.

So many years and milestones have passed since then. The death of my mother, my “conversion” to Christianity, my fruitful time at FareStart and Starbucks, my return to Texas, and reconnecting with my dad and his wife, Jan (my OM: other mother).

Since Meg has relocated back here with my my grandson, Brandon, the best I’ve been able to pull off is visiting once a year to see them, and that’s what this trip was originally about. That all changed several weeks ago, when Kim (Meg’s mom) got sick while at the Toronto Film Festival.

Today I went with Kim to her bone marrow biopsy appointment at the Swedish Hospital Cancer Center. As difficult and troubling as that was for me, I am positive it pales by comparison to Kim’s experience.

There is nothing like walking into a doorway to a building with the words “Cancer Center” above it. Everything I had been feeling and thinking up till that point became so much more real at that moment. The current national Health Care discussion became very relevant and seemed all the more urgent and important. Just one of Kim’s prescriptions would have cost $1500 for a two week supply without insurance. That’s one of several she’s currently taking, and that doesn’t even factor in the possibility of chemotherapy later. But I digress.

The real issue here is the definition of family, the true essence of friendship and the “r word” I spent so many years avoiding: responsibility. Questions like: “How do I support a friend, family member and loved one who is facing this sort of battle?” “How do I communicate with her four other kids, who only know part of the story?”, “How do I support my daughter, who is facing the uncertainty and heaviness of a mother facing Cancer?”

After years of 12 step work and spiritual study, I’m grateful for one question that I don’t have to ask, which is: “What about me?”.

In times like these, at least for me, something kicks in which is bigger than my little comfort bubble, and my usual concern for my own comfort. A willingness to serve, which is fueled by my understanding of what it is to be a Christian, and what it is to be a friend, and what it is to be a member of a family. This is not easy, but it is so simple; when I ask, “what can I do?” the answer comes so quickly.... “whatever it takes”.

I watch my mom, Jan dealing with her aging mother’s dementia and its attendant fits of confusion and hostility, and I think, “how does she do it?”. I’m beginning to get a glimpse. It’s like the parental instinct that kicks in (in most cases) which allows us to subvert our own goals, and begin to serve the greater goal of nurturing and guiding our kiddos.

Before getting out of the car to go up to the appointment, Kim gave me the honor of allowing me to pray with her, and it is a privilege I do not take lightly. Often in times of medical crisis, people say things like “All we can do is pray”, as if that is some last resort or final attempt to wrestle with the circumstances. I feel that prayer is not only not a last resort, it is in fact the most powerful thing we can do. My Christian brothers and sisters (hopefully) know the many scriptures about how the “fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much” and my friends who do not consider themselves Christian have their own feelings about prayer, I’m sure. For me, I know this: God hears and answers all prayers. Our challenge is to trust that regardless of his answer, his plan is perfect.

My grandson Brandon, is in the adorable stage of asking “why?” about everything, and each time, I’m tempted to answer with either whimsy or some dry fact, which will only lead to another.. “why?”. It’s endless and wonderful. It’s like he’s showing me something about human nature, that we never seem to get... the answer to “why?” is always speculative, and usually leads deeper down the tunnel. And like laboratory mice in a maze, it’s usually a tunnel with no cheese at the end. That’s why when my mom died unexpectedly from a stroke at 62, I belligerently resisted my friend’s and family member’s attempts to ask “Why her?” ....no exceptions.

Tonight at dinner, I was trying to match movie reviewer skills with Kim, and in my discussion of a recent movie, I mentioned that I felt it was a bit rambling and incoherent. Having read this far.. perhaps you know what I was talking about.