Aleen Mean

Please note: This post might be triggering for 1) my friends, who lived through this loss and 2) anyone who has lost someone to cancer or similar illnesses.

It seems like cancer is everywhere I look lately. Rebecca Meyer lost her battle last week. Next week will mark Rowan’s 16th birthday. The author of another blog I follow announced that her brother-in-law’s fight is not going well.

I am so, so sorry. My thoughts are with you all.

A lifetime ago, I considered myself a Christian. I studied the Bible and prayed for the salvation of my friends and family while hoping that my conviction was the One Truth. Somewhere along the way I lost the faith I had in an all-knowing God and, with that, I stopped praying.

In the summer of 2012 my fervorous prayers began anew.

There was no ritual. I didn’t bend my knee, bow my head, or even speak. I wasn’t directing them at anyone or anything. They were blank stares into a handful of laundry, tears as I navigated through my day, and whispers in the darkness as I tried to sleep at night.

Please. Please let her live.

As we moved into the fall and we all started to catch glimmers of the future, it changed.

Please. Please let her see the new year.

As Christmas creeped nearer, there was little else I could think of. I don’t think there’s ever a good time to die. There’s always something more to live for, another milestone ahead. It seemed so cruel, though, for my friend to die during the holiday season.

We went to deliver some food and hang out a week or so before Christmas. She lit up when she saw Justin, just like she always had, but it was like seeing the flicker of a candle after knowing the brilliance of the sun. She was swollen from steroids and exhausted from her pain, not to mention the cocktail of medicine designed to help control the agony. She dozed off in the middle of sentences. We helped her move from her chair to the bed to the chair again in a bid to help buy her some comfort.

Before we left, I gave her a hug goodbye. I didn’t want her to know I was crying so I held on a bit longer than I otherwise would have, my head resting on top of hers as I tried to sob silently.

My prayers stopped that day.

It’s okay, Mia. It’s okay. We’ll take care of Mark and the kids. You can go. (I’m sure you’ll hear more about Mia over time. She was an amazing woman whose loss I feel every day.)

In light of some colorful behind-the-scenes comments I’m getting….

My friends are gay. I didn’t point it out specifically because it didn’t seem necessary. The point of my story was that my friends, parents of a girl who fought like hell for her life and lost the battle, were struggling and I was thinking of them. Their sexuality had no bearing on my intent. And here’s the thing: It’s not just that I don’t care. Rather, it never even crossed my mind that I should spend the time and energy to form an opinion about their relationship.

Other peoples’ sexuality and/or identified gender is absolutely none of my business, any more than my sex life is any of theirs. That’s all there is to it.

So. Rather than spewing hate because two women had a child whom they loved and cherished (the nerve!), let’s focus our energy on something more productive. Lord knows we have enough real problems in the world.

I should be getting it together. A week and a half after leaving one job and a week after starting a new one, my life is in chaos. The kitchen needs to be cleaned, my office is a wreck, and my clean clothing options are limited. But today, amidst the chaos and information overload that accompanies starting a new endeavor, I’m starting to feel like me for the first time in a while. Instead of trudging along from one catastrophe to the next, I’m able to take a step back and just…breathe. Life is good.

I met Rowan six years ago, at her uncle’s 50th birthday party. I can distinctly remember the pride with which my coworker Tina pointed her out. “That’s my daughter. She beat leukemia.”

At the ripe age of ten, she was this incredibly mature woman-child. I didn’t have many conversations with her, only a a few words here and there when she came into work with Tina. She spoke with consideration and thoughtfulness. She was always kind, always patient, always respectful.

And then…. And then. Leukemia came back, but Rowan’s treatment was going well. The wonder of modern medicine was able to break her immune system down so that her body would be able to accept the gift of new bone marrow. The curse was that her immune system was unable to fight off the germs rampant in a hospital and, five years ago today, she died because she caught a cold.

I’ve grown close to both of Rowan’s mommies over the last five years. We have laughed, cried, and banded together in times of tragedy and stress. I’m at a point where sometimes I’m not sure where my memories of Ro end and where the stories Michele and Tina have told me begin.

All of this is to say that today, my heart has been with my friends all day. I hope that you were able to honor Rowan today. I hope that you wandered in your memories and remembered how kind, smart, and funny she was. I hope you remember her resilience and her grace, even when she was burdened with more than many adults can bare.

Mostly, I hope you were able to bask in her love for you both.

The other day it occurred to me, not for the first time, that my commute to and from work is an additional part-time job.

On a short day, I spend 10 hours away from home; frequently, traffic is bad or I have to work late to meet a deadline and my day is even longer. No wonder I’m so tired every night! I spend my weekend running errands, prepping food, catching up on the chores I neglect, and trying to recover from my week. By the time I’m ready to put some work in on my personal projects, it’s Monday and I have to start all over again.

It’s too much.

I’ve got to let something go, and unfortunately I think that means that writing will have to take a (continued) back burner. It breaks my heart, but so does the constant berating I’ve been inflicting on myself every day I haven’t posted something on here. If you’re keeping track, that’s a lot of days I’ve been beating myself up!

It took a lot of soul-searching for me to winnow my projects down to just creative writing, helping my husband as he starts his business, photography, and exercise. More recently, it’s taken weeks of stress for me to realize even that is just too much for me right now.

But soon, I hope, my projects at work will be a little less intense and I will be able to work from home more. When that happens, expect to hear from me more often :)

Photo by Steve McCurry

“But what do you want to create?”

I’ve been asked the question a dozen times since my post summarizing 2013. My answer is always some variation of, “I want to take beautiful pictures. I want to write inspiring sentences. I want to make non-annyoing music.” I don’t want to draw better or learn how to paint. Maybe someday, but not for years and years to come. My creations are different than that.

I have a dear friend who is an extremely talented artist in the way that people think of artistry: he draws and colors his pictures using a variety of media. He recently told me that photography is not art. After all, he explained, the only thing you need to do is point a camera at the subject and press a button.

I look at the picture above and wonder how anyone can think such a thing.