Diff'rent Strokes and Such

My head hurts and I'm mentally and physically drained.  I'm not complaining.  Just stating a fact.  I'm also watching Diff'rent Strokes on Antenna TV. 

I woke up this morning at 5:50, and for a refreshing change of pace, I only lied in bed for twenty minutes checking out Facebook posts, and my usual morning check to see if I sold any books overnight.  I always hope to be astounded that overnight the book fairies have orchestrated some fantastic advertising for me, and I'll discover that I moved up into the top of the charts on Amazon.  It's yet to happen.  Damn fairies. 

In some ways, I'm grateful that I was compelled to make a run to the store to get cat food and some cleaning products before I got sucked into rewriting or time squandering.  I'd carried the bags in, gave the dogs their treats (heaven forbid I come home without a prize for those three....and I thought my kids were spoiled back in the day getting their surprises), replenished the cats' bowl, and realized I didn't have my cell phone. 

There was a text from a friend letting me know that my step-sister had lost her battle with cancer and she didn't want me to read it on Facebook, even though she felt it was a crappy way to tell me in a text.  It was nice she was thinking of me.  To make a long story short, my sister (that's what I'd always considered her even though our parents are no longer married) was diagnosed with breast cancer some years back.  It seemed at the time the prognosis was really good because they'd caught it early.  They knew to look for it because she'd lost both her mom and grandma to the disease. 

The cancer had returned sometime after the first of the year, and it just wasn't good.  Those damn cancer cells migrate through the body, and it's my understanding, it can take years for them to show up again even with regular testing.  She'd spent a good portion of the last almost three months in the hospital, coming home for only a few days before returning.  Family was called in about three weeks ago as they thought she was fading fast.  She continued radiation for pain management, and was moved to a continuing care unit. 

Her mom died when she was in sixth grade.  It wasn't too long after my mom married her dad.  She and her brother were whisked from their home and moved in with my step-dad and mom.  I never saw her cry, and mainly we were instructed to be nice because she'd just lost her mom.  No one talked about it, and I suppose I didn't know what to say.  I do remember her listening to a taped recording of her mom singing, "Someone's in the kitchen with Dinah."  It creeped me out a little because at that time at the ripe ole age of 15 or so, I didn't understand that she wasn't listening to a dead woman.  She was listening to her mom.  Looking back now, it was sweet and her way of coping with the loss.  But wow, she was strong even then.  And, I suppose when you lose a parent like that and life as you know it is turned upside down moving into someone else's home, changing schools, and not having your mommy, well, some people do adapt and become strong.  I don't know how she did it, in retrospect. 

She certainly was one of those people. 

This post clearly has nothing to do with Diff'rent Strokes, consequently, but is a disjointed rambling attempt at something.

She was a fighter and tough.  Through my tears and grief today, I wanted to crawl into bed, have a good cry, and go to sleep, despite the fact the world was still revolving and life was taking place around me.  My oldest son will be home on leave from the Navy next week.  I've got a billion things to get done.  I have a book project in its final stages of proofreading that is just screaming to be uploaded to Amazon and CreateSpace.  I didn't, though.  I tried to attend to what was needed of me today with happy memories of those younger years growing up with my step-sister. 

People move on all the time to whatever lies beyond for us when this life is over.  Others will stop, reflect, decide life is too short, and oftentimes, it's a fleeting thought before we're drawn back into the daily grind of life.  We get caught up in what is going on right in front of us, and we forget those feelings brought on by grief and mourning.  I personally know that sometimes a death of someone, and it doesn't even have to be someone close, can propel us into creating and reaching a goal.  When a classmate of mine died at the age of 30 from melanoma, I decided life was too short to lollygag and landed my weekly column that I wrote for ten years. 

Today, I've been thinking about what a complainer I can be even when I'm not solely stating a fact.  I can be so impatient, easily annoyed when others get in the way of what I'm trying to accomplish.  My struggles are hardly comparable to what some people go through on a daily basis merely to survive, get by, make ends meet, and plainly cope.  There's certainly no reason I couldn't strive to better...in general.  She could certainly serve as a source of inspiration for me. 

My sister was a great lady.  She leaves behind a caring husband and five wonderful daughters that range from pre-teen to young adult, and a two year old grandson.  She was kind, caring, giving, and I never heard her complain.  Ever.  And it wasn't because it was not polite to complain, but because it wasn't in her nature to do so.  I know people say these things about others once they are gone, but it's the honest truth.  I'm not painting a picture for posterity misrepresenting.  She was a great mom and friend to others.  Undoubtedly, she will be missed by everyone who knew and loved her. 

She was also my favorite margarita drinking companion.  This weekend, I shall go to our favorite Mexican restaurant and raise a glass or two in her memory and to the lessons a little sister can teach a big sister.