When it comes to sports, JC and I definitely have different passions. I'll be the first to admit that I have been converted into a semi sports enthusiast, learning the rules, understanding the significance of key plays, and tolerating hours of ESPN. I've sat through my fair share of NFL/NBA drafts, cheered on the "home" teams from both Arizona and Oregon (and sometimes Washington), and have even begun to enjoy sports-related video games.
But deep in my heart, my favorite sport to watch will always be equestrian-related. I truly miss my days of horse riding, and it's always somewhat fulfilling when I have an opportunity to watch professional riders in action. From horse racing to three-day eventing, I do appreciate the occasional televised event. I'm also very thankful that JC has been open, and even eager, to watching these events as well.
This morning, I was taking care of some domestic duties when I received a text from JC: "I'm watching cross country equestrian". It warmed my heart that he chose to tune in for his own enjoyment, but also that he let me know it was on. I quickly wrapped up what I was working on, and ran upstairs to watch.
Cross country is an intense, even dangerous, event for horses and riders alike. It definitely takes a great deal of training, practice, and endurance to travel the course of cumbersome, intimidating hurdles spread across uneven terrain. I remember my sister and I always loved the rare opportunities we had to ride through a cross country course, while my mom always dreaded it. Her reasoning makes sense - if something goes wrong, these obstacles aren't as forgiving as the jumps used in stadium jumping. In fact, JC watched as quite a few riders went flying as their horses refused to jump over giant logs and steep embankments. One can't help but remember the tragic unhorsing of Christopher Reeve on a similar course.
Watching the cross country event this morning really got me thinking - life is really one big cross country course, scattered with treacherous obstacles at seemingly random points with spaces in between when all you can do is anticipate what may lie ahead. Sometimes it's smooth sailing, you and your mount effortlessly gliding up and over the obstacle; other times you become unseated and have to gather the courage to get back up and try a different approach. While cross country competitors always have an opportunity to walk the course before they ride, they can't completely predict how the horse will react. There will always be unexpected objects which cause the horse to spook or refuse, forcing the rider off balance.
As I ride through my cross country course of life, I am thankful my horse has been fairly reliable. There have been a few moments I've lost my seat, but managed to stay in the saddle. I know there are some fairly perilous hurdles looming in the near future, but I am confident I have the ability to charge on and soar over what lies ahead.
In 5
short days, we will usher in the month of May in the year 2012. This is a very
significant month in my life, connecting to many milestones and moments I will
never forget. When I really think about it, I almost have a "6
degrees of separation" relationship with the month of May - one
memory that relates to another, weaves through to another, and links to yet
another. In the end, it all boils down to numbers that, when taken out of
context, may seem fairly insignificant. Math has never been my subject of strength,
but I have a deep respect for the meaning of numbers, especially when
representing dates, times, measurements…
May 13,
2005:
JC and I engaged in our first official date. There had been a bit
of a love connect brewing for 2-3 weeks, ranging from passive flirtation to
more direct methods of conveying attraction. Through the running time of 118 minutes
of Hitch, we both pondered the
development of our relationship and the significance of this first
date. The next day, we became a couple – and we’ve never looked back since. As
corny and sappy as it may sound, we really have been inseparable since day one.
It’s hard to imagine that we will be celebrating seven years of coupledom this
year.
Not long after we started dating, I remember having a conversation filled
with raw emotions and inspiring a true connection between us. JC expressed his
deepest fear – losing his father. At the time, I had only met EC once,
if at all, so I really didn’t grasp the full gravity of their relationship. Of
course, I can sympathize with the general fear we all have about losing loved
ones, particularly parents. I truly had no concept how important this man was
in JC’s life.
Almost exactly six years later, JC’s father was diagnosed
with cancer. By this time, not only did I have an opportunity to gain more
understanding of the bond between father and son, I had also developed a
relationship of my own with EC. It’s almost too easy to take the reality of
life for granted; the false comfort of, “it’ll never happen to me” and “that only
happens to strangers” really was my mindset for the majority of my life. I had
never suffered the loss of someone close to me, with the exception of 10
or more childhood pets. While I had experienced the passing of one
paternal grandparent and two relatives-by-marriage, I was emotionally
disconnected enough from these individuals that I really wasn’t affected by
this portion of the circle of life.
May 2011:
Shortly following the diagnosis, EC underwent surgery in an attempt to remove
the cancerous tissue. With just over 1,300 miles separating us from our family,
distance became an unbearable obstacle. JC was able to fly home for the surgery,
which lasted an excess of seven hours. Although successful, pathology
reports showed the cancer had already spread beyond its point of origin into
other major organs.
June 2011:
Both JC and I made a trip home to visit his father, also taking the opportunity
to celebrate our three year wedding anniversary and JC’s 27th birthday with
a trip to his mother’s beach house. This was the first time I had seen EC in
about 21
months – while his personality seemed close to normal, his body showed signs of
the malignant invasion. Even with the evidence directly in front of me, I still
struggled with the reality of what was transpiring. It was extremely difficult
for me to grasp the magnitude of the disease. Wasn’t the surgery supposed to help? How is it possible for a disease
to have such an established presence without anyone knowing? Soon after our
visit, EC began chemotherapy treatment in an attempt to slow the progression.
Over the next five months, JC made three additional trips home, traveling a
total of 13,000
miles and spending approximately $1,500 on airline tickets. He
was able to help care for his father, assisting at different stages of the
chemotherapy cycle with each visit. While I strongly believe he would have regretted
not being part of this process, I also think it was extremely difficult to
watch his father’s health deteriorate before his eyes.
October 2011: EC celebrated his 75th birthday on
the 9th
day of the month. JC mailed home a carefully selected birthday card, one which
appropriately and effectively expressed a message of love while also
representing understandable trepidation of what was to come. During this month,
I experienced the passing of my great-aunt, a woman I deeply respected and
loved. I felt this was my first real brush with death, a heartbreaking
loss that struck my hard. Immediately, I was filled with regret, having not
visited her in nearly three years.
JC and I had both planned to fly home to celebrate Thanksgiving, but we
began to understand that it might be too late. Instead, we decided to take
advantage of a three-day weekend and bought tickets for 11/11/11.
November 2011:
At 10pm
on November
8th, JC received a text message from his mom, telling him
it was time to come home. We both
knew what that meant. Even at that late hour, I was able to make the necessary
changes to our travel arrangements in order to secure seats on Southwest flight
657 at
7:15am
the next morning. We arrived at the airport after a mere five hours of sleep, if that,
which only exacerbated our emotional state. I have never been an enthusiastic
flyer, and this was not a flight I was eager to take. By the time we touched
down nearly three
hours later, we battled car trouble and traffic to arrive at JC’s mom’s house
around 12:30pm.
We were greeted by JC’s two sisters and two of his three
brothers. His father was surrounded by his family, having slipped into a sleep
symbolic of the battle his body continued to fight against the invading
disease. This image of a man, drifting slowly from life, is one
that will be forever engrained in my mind. Not just any man, but a man I had
spent a great deal of time with; a man who meant more than anything to my
husband.
At approximately 3pm on 11/9/11, exactly one month after his 75th
birthday and a mere six months after begin diagnosed with
cancer, EC passed away. I watched the moment he took his last breath,
experienced the process of death which seemed so rapid yet drawn out almost too
long. It was a moment of extreme sadness yet pure relief. Over the next 9
days, we rode the rollercoaster of grief through the series of events which accompany
the passing of a loved one. Making arrangements, attending the funeral
mass, visiting family…clinging to each other and finding comfort in our love. Ironically,
November also marked five years since JC and I moved away from
home and began our post-college lives together.
February 2012:
Fast-forward three months, JC received news that his grandmother (EC’s
mom) had passed away. At age 96, this woman had endured the passing of four
of her children before her. She was an extremely strong woman who lived through
the Great Depression as a single mother, raising seven children, and surviving
both breast cancer and a stroke within her lifetime.
May 2012:
As the days and months continue to roll by, the pain and grief continue to ebb
and surge like a costal tide. Next month will mark six months since EC’s passing
and one
year since his cancer diagnosis - 525,600 minutes. It seems almost unfair to
think of how quickly it all happened. I still struggle with reality and attempt
to reconcile the lack of fairness in life’s events. We continue to celebrate
the milestones and anniversaries, the holidays and cyclical measures, always
taking note of the absent family members. Hopefully, we will have some time to
heal before we must add another heartache to the list. I’ve learned that it’s
never easy to lose someone you love, but it helps to deepen the love you feel
for everyone special in your life.
