The List

Happy, Happy Birthday!
Today's Your Special Day!
Happy, Happy Birthday!
That's Why I'm Here to Say!
oh Happy, Happy Birthday!
May All Your Dreams Come True!
Happy, Happy Birthday!
From Me-e-e To You!

Jill is the first one to call barring any major catastrophe. She likes to make sure I know that she loves me the most. And she likes to sing me the Birthday Song when I'm still warm and squishy from a restful night's sleep. With no catastrophe to speak of, my first phone call today was from her. She called five more times throughout the day. In her last message she told me the story of how mom and dad were visiting her on her birthday last year and she woke up to find that mom had placed Post-Its all over the house that read "Happy Birthday, Jilly". So in her own special way, as she put it, she was calling me throughout the day to make sure I felt as loved as she did on her birthday; and loved I did feel.

Since I moved around so much growing up, I am proud to say I've wrangled quite an extensive "friends" list. This list is great for traveling cross-country because I always have a place to stay. It is also great on my birthday because I am guaranteed at least six phone calls, a dozen emails and birthday cards trickling in for the two weeks surronding my birthday.

I like to draw my birthday out. Similar to Christmas, the fun is over when it's time to clean up the wrapping paper, so I make it last as long as possible. Last night Logic agreed to let me open the gifts he gave me and then this morning I unwrapped the new Wellies from his family. But there was still a box and half a dozen cards that I wanted to save until I got home from work. So when we returned home, I was excited to see another four cards in the mail for me! Before opening the cards Logic was dying for me to open the last box, so I obliged. It was from Lilikoi and Ranger and it was full of my favorite things: PB M&Ms, Lush bath products and some Hawaiian tea.

Next I decided to open my cards. Organizing them in the order I wanted to open them, I noticed that the card from my Godmother had a return address from California even though she lives in Washington. I knew she had a sister near San Francisco and assumed that she was visiting her. When it came time to open her card, which she sends every year, I was surprised to find a note fall out with a pictures of the Virgin Mary on it. This wasn't typical for her. She usually sent me cute cards with puppies or flowers on it but I still turned it over expecting to see the familiar hand-writing wishing me a Happy Birthday. When I turned the card over, I saw that it was a Mass Card*. What happened next took a few minutes for me to register.

My breath caught in my throat and I grappled to find the piece of paper that fell out of the envelope when I hastily pulled out the card. Finding the paper, I flipped it over. Logic looked on, expecting me to tell him how my Godmother was doing and to read him the kind words she most definitely had written. He was nearly as shocked as I was when the words "she's dead" fell out of my mouth. The next few minutes, I just sat on the couch reading and re-reading the card:

We are saddened to let you know that our sister, Margaret, died on September 21, 2008at Lourdes Medical Center in Pasco, Washington due to complications of cancer.

Please remember our family and the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet, of which she was a member for 52 years.

With love,
(her family)

I put the note down, exasperated.
"They didn't even say how she died!".
Logic picked up the note and scoured every line.
"Cancer", he whispered.
I had read the card five times and missed that fucking C word every time. I must have seen it but couldn't absorb it; didn't want to believe it.
I was still expecting my birthday card.

She was the nurse in my delivery room. And since the day I was born when she cradled me before handing me to my dad, she has always sent me a card. She would usually include a cheesy gift that I would be embarrassed to show anyone. Being a nun, she was delightfully out of touch when it came to the latest toys and instead sent me a home-made apron or a magnet with my name on it or an oven mitt. Things I took for granted because I didn't expect the gifts to stop coming. But as I sit here, reeling from the news, I wish I had shown that rooster magnet off to all of my friends and that I'd worn that apron at least once. Now I don't even know where they are.

I know she wouldn't be hurt by my lack of interest in her gifts. She and I both knew that it wasn't about the gifts at all. It was about that day, now twenty nine years ago, when she helped my parents bring me into this world and how special we both knew we were to each other.

Every year, after opening her card and the little trinket that she spent her time searching for, buying, wrapping and shipping, I would sit down and write her a Thank You card that not only included a detailed list of everything she sent, but also an update on how I was doing. One time I even asked her when her birthday was so that I could send HER a card and make sure she felt as loved as I did on my birthday but she never responded with an answer. No, she didn't want anything from me; except for the rare card and the even rarer visit to see her.

I was the closest thing she would ever have to a child of her own. She joined the convent at an early age and devoted most of her life as a nurse to working in the Delivery Room, counselor teenage mothers and, later in life, devoting most of her time to AIDS patients and the elderly. She sacrificed her own possibility for children so that she could help other people's children into the world, help them when they found themselves scared and pregnant at sixteen, suffering from a weakened immune system as a result of the AIDS virus, and comforting them as they eased their way into death.

Today I did not get a birthday card from Sister Margaret Mary,
(Happy, Happy Birthday...)
but the absence of that card
(Today's Your Special Day...)
is much deeper than the lack of its delivery.
(Happy, Happy Birthday)
Instead,
(May All Your Dreams Come True)
as the day winds down,
(Happy, Happy Birthday)
the one she helped usher me into,
(From Me-e-e To You)
I find myself with one less friend on the list.

*card sent out to loved ones asking for their prayers.

Oh LeRoi

Isn't it true that music can cause so many emotions? Not only in the midst of music, but in its absence?
Today I am very sad because of music. One of the founding members of the Dave Matthews Band passed away yesterday due to complications from a recent ATV accident. He was only 46.

Happy Mother's Day. Or Not. Whatever.

I couldn't get out of bed yesterday. I'd been up until 11:30 the night before doing some spontaneous spring-cleaning in anticipation of Logic's return from Utah. When my alarm went off at 6:00, I could barely manage rolling over to turn it off. After the fourth 'snooze' attempt, I decided to call in sick. My plan was to take the afternoon off anyway so I could pick Logic up from the airport so it was easy to justify having the morning off as well.
I finally crawled out of bed around 9 and was making some final alterations to the newly-arranged living room furniture when I got a call from Tom.
We'd been playing phone-tag since October. Neither one of us was really making the effort to meet up, but after a good talk with a friend on Sunday morning I decided an effort should be made. I called him on Sunday afternoon as he was heading into the movie theater. He agreed to call later that day, but I wasn't really expecting him to. To my surprise he did.
He drove over in the afternoon and we sat on my couch. We talked for two hours - a new record for us. It was weird because it wasn't weird. We talked about nothing and everything and it was really nice. So when he called me on Monday morning, I thought it would be a quick "knock knock" joke, since we'd already covered everything else. But it wasn't.
He called to tell me that Grandma passed away. He'd just gotten off the phone with mom and he wanted to warn me that she was pretty broken up. He said it was really hard to hear her like that and he just wanted me to be prepared. I was shocked twice-over. Once for hearing that Grandma was dead and twice for receiving such a sweet call from my usually-absent brother.
After talking to Tom, I immediately called my mom. She, of course, was trickling the news down the list of her children and was on the phone with Jill. She called me back a few minutes later with a lump in her throat.
"I'm fine", she kept assuring me. "It's just hard to talk about."
After a few attempts at telling me what happened, she had to put my dad on the phone.
He said that they didn't really know much. It was assumed that she died of natural causes. She had recently been moved back to the nursing home from the hospital after a quart and a half of liquid was drained from her lungs. There was no sign of pneumonia but her kidneys were acting up. Among other things, she wasn't eating or drinking and her blood pressure was higher than normal. And yet, she seemed to be improving. We were all bracing ourselves for more trouble but didn't expect her to die so soon.
The real kicker was how my mom found out. When my Aunt Jo called to tell her, my mom was at the post office... sending out my Grandma's card for Mother's Day. It breaks my heart to imagine her walking up to the mailbox, stopping to answer her phone, and then needing to decide what to do with the card.
This Sunday is going to be a really hard day for her. I really want to be there but I also want to go to Michigan in a few weeks when my mom buries both her parents' ashes. I just checked tickets to New Mexico and they are outrageous.
I just don't know what to do.

Aaron

Eleven years ago today, a junior in high school got out of school and drove out to a campsite to hang out with his friends. He drank a lot, as did his friends. When it was time to drive back into town, he jumped in the passenger seat of the truck.
Soon into the drive the truck flew over a cliff. The driver was able to escape before the wheels left the pavement but the boy wasn't as lucky. When the truck landed tail-up in the riverbed, he was stuck. His friend ran back to the campground and called for help. As luck would have it, the ambulance got a flat tire en-route and arrived at the scene too late. All by himself, in the middle of nowhere, he waited for help. Help that didn't come in time.

Damon

He was a sweet kid who dated a girl during her troublesome teens. He became the one to blame when she chose to rebel. They got engaged, Her family refused, he joined the Coast Guard.
On a trip through The City, he stopped to visit Her younger sister, who also happened to be Logic's roommate at the time and my friend. He wasn't the kind of person I thought I'd run into again but I was happy to see him.
Along with his newly-macho swagger, he greeted us with vodka, ice, lemons, limes, an empty milk carton and a joint.
He taught us the ritual of Yucca Juice and got Logic high for the first time. He shared stories of growing up and reminded us of fun times past.
Within a matter of hours he was a memory again.
I later heard through friends that he moved to Colorado and was married. Until his wife found out about his brain tumor.
He moved home and lived with his parents. His life in shambles. The only solace in his newly used life was the companionship of lifelong friends.
He was never one of those people I thought I'd ever see again. And I was right.
Rest in peace, Damon.

Mother's Day

So we'll be going to Roseburg this Friday for the funeral. After missing one really important day already (Lilikoi's wedding when Allison was born), I am so relieved to be able to help her through this. I'm preparing to put my shit-kickers on (metophorically, I promise) and do as much as I can.
As tragic as this has been, the silver lining is that I'll get to see my sister and her babies (they'll be at the funeral too) and spend Mother's Day with Logic's mom.

How Quickly Things Change

I was sitting in a queue, waiting to get on a ferry boat on Bainbridge Island. I was in a car with Logic, Melanie, Kenny and their baby Anika. We'd just finished dinner and were heading back to Seattle after a day-long adventure through part of the Olympic Peninsula.
My purse was on my lap, otherwise I would never have felt my phone vibrating. I looked to see who it was: Paige. We often talk and I figured she was just checking in. Not wanting to be rude to our guests, I sent it to voicemail. But as soon as my voicemail saved her message, Logic's phone started to ring. Paige again. Knowing that something must be up, I checked my messages. The message was marked urgent which she'd never done before."Amaya, call me as soon as you get this. It's about Lili and her parents."So I dial her number. When she picks up I learn that Lilikoi's Dad shot himself.
He'd been suffering for a long time from a number of different ailments. Mostly mental. I wasn't too surprised actually. But when Paige mentioned that Lilikoi's Mom was home at the time, my breath caught in my throat. How could he do something so final and selfish when his beautiful, loving wife was in the next room? How must it have felt to hear the shot and run through the house only to find him dead?
I thanked Paige for calling and immediately dialed Lilikoi. Hearing her cracked voice sound so timid on the other end broke my heart. I knew of the unhealthy relationship she had with her father, but I also knew of the unwavering love and closeness that she shared with her mom. Wanting to reach through the phone and offer my shoulder to cry on, I could only listen. Listen and cry.
Lili is in Roseburg right now. With her mom, brother and possibly her sister. Her husband is most definitely helping to take care of them. I wonder where I'm supposed to be in all of this? Do I stay here and give them time? Do I rush down and offer my support?
For now, I sit and wait.