Three years ago, I lost my mom. She lived a long life, but I didn’t have all of her for fourteen years prior to her passing because of Alzheimer’s Disease. Before that, I lost my sister, my dog, and my dad. I actually lost my sister many years before she died because she was on drugs and was administered shock treatments in the state mental hospital, which was where they put and how they treated drug users back in the day. Afterwards, she lost her mind and my sister, the first person that I knew really, truly loved me, became and died as one of the crazy-looking people on the street you try to avoid. Before that, I lost my aunt and uncle who were like my grandparents. My real grandfathers died before I was born and my grandmothers passed before I was 12.
When I was in high school, a friend was shot and killed. Throughout the years, I’ve been through many funerals of neighbors, relatives, associates, and siblings and parents of friends. My elementary school music teacher passed two weeks ago. Beyond death and tragedy, people who I thought would always be in my life chose to end our relationship. I’ve lost jobs, a car, homes that I loved, income, status, my youthful idealism. At times, I’ve lost myself.
One of my closest friends has had life-threatening health issues for some time. We have been through so much together, some really crazy, fun times and the painful growth periods that most people go through. She knows the inside of me, how and why I think. She’s my sister from another mother. It’s been very challenging trying to deal with what’s going on with her, especially since we live in different states. The very selfish thought of potential loss to me is unbearable. If I allow myself to think of it, I lose my ability to breathe and have to immediately distract myself.
If she is no longer physically in my life, what will I have? Who will know me like she knows me? We are supposed to sit on a balcony in our old age, overlooking an ocean, talking about all the stuff we did in our lives, all of the dramas we got through. With whom will I share the stories that only we know?
But why even think this way? God only knows when her or my time will come.