How Did I Get Here, And Where Is The Next Turn?

Greetings and salutations to all who deem this worthy of your time...

Brought up Nov 18, 2012

Moon Shadow, Moon Shadow...

First, a shout out to all who have commented. Thanks, ya'll. Connie, I am honored to be your friend.

I was doing fine today. I knew our priest was going to say something during the service today, as she had called and asked, and put my name on the prayer list. Seeing my name there in print, with all our other congregation members who are ill was an odd thing. It was a feeling I can not begin to describe. I have added names from time to time over the years, but to see my own there, so stark and bold, well, it's just not something I was prepared for. I was fine, though.

We had a visiting harpist today, and her playing was beautiful, soothing. She played Amazing Grace at one point, my second favorite hymn. It was lovely, and as usual, when that song is played or sung, my eyes misted a bit, but I kept the tears at bay today. I was fine.

I was fine when my name was read aloud with all the others during our 'Prayers for the People' segment of the service. I was fine when Rev Ann made the announcement, briefly about my sitch. I was fine during the 'Peace.' We are a friendly bunch, going around shaking hands and hugging during this part. I shook hands, got ribbed a bit by a retired Auburn U professor for wearing my Alabama T (Hey, they kicked ass yesterday). I smiled and chuckled.

I was fine at communion when the lady holding one of the two cups of wine gave me an extra big gulp.

I got back to my seat. I was fine.

Then my sweet friend, the Cajun, was coming back from the communion rail. He is battling lung cancer, just now recovering from having half a lung removed a few weeks ago. He is facing chemo next month. He reached out with the saddest look on his face, and took my hand briefly as he passed.

The tears came. I saw in his face the same look I see reflected in the mirror from my own eyes. Fear.

I got the tears under control. No problem. I was, again, fine.

Service ended. Some folks always stand around and chat as we disburse for the day, and some caught me as I was attempting a hasty exit. I smiled, repeating my mantra... I'm fine. I am going to be fine.

And there was the Cajun waiting for me, his arms open. I went willingly, longingly into them, trying to be gentle, not hurt him as he is still recovering. His body felt so fragile as he hugged me fiercely. I lost it for a few seconds, and sobbed. I could feel him weeping, quietly, with me. His wife, the Sweet Lady, joined us, and the three of us wept together. As I drew away, he pulled out a tan bandanna hankie (ever the gentleman farmer/retired corporate lawyer), and mopped his face, muttering "Damn." He said it caught him off guard. I gave them a few brief details, said I would be just fine, we both would, and as quickly as I could skittered away.

I spoke to a couple more, hugged, and ducked out as quickly as I could. I though I was ready to talk to people if they had questions, but I guess I'm not really. Talking is no problem. It's that look I can't handle just yet. I can't bear to see the fear in their eyes. Or the tender love I saw in some today.

I got to my car, guzzled down the remains of my coffee, cold and disgusting, but calming some how. I slapped on my shades, started the car, and headed out. At the end of the church drive, I cranked up the radio. I got out of sight of the church before I lit a cigarette and pushed down on the gas peddle. I was fine.

Through the curves, going at least 15 miles over the limit, and not touching the brake at all, I sang loudly with the radio... "Alive and Kicking" by NXS, then a fave, "Hooked on a Feeling," Blue Suede version with the ooga chagas... this one had to go louder. Then, my man, Cat Stevens... I don't care what he calls himself these days, he will always be Cat Stevens. Moon Shadow is not my all time fave of his, but it's in the top five. My favorite, is also my favorite hymn, "Morning Has Broken." Anyway, Singing along, listening to his lovely guitar, I was finally smiling a bit. "Leaping and hopping on a moon shadow..." Yeah, I'm fine again. Not great. I've been better, but I'm fine. Like the Cajun and I agreed as we sobbed, we are going to lick this. We are both going to be fine.

Comments (2)

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Connie » 5 years ago

What a wonderful warm embrace. Just the kind only a person going through or have been through needs and understands. A special group of sorts. Knowing the fears, being scared out of your mind. Not always wanting to hand it over to God, cause you are just too pissed off. Then excepting it and just wanting to get it the hell over with. I'm thrilled you have the church family Kandy and those that will be there for you as you will be there for them. . .there will always be a next one. ((hugs))

Holly » 5 years ago


( I think I've been spending too much time on Facebook!)