It was our very last race of 2014!!! November 30th, 2014 in Vancouver, Washington! The grand finale to all of my and Sarah's hard work all over the state of Oregon- we wrapped up our big adventures just over the border! I honestly didn't do much to train for this race other than walking the dog regularly, but I did finish the race!
The big stop in the middle was waiting outside the bathrooms for a lady I ended up bonding with. I promised to wait for her, and I did! It was very cold and by the end I was pretty much walking all of it (or it felt like it). I was just so cold and tired! And it was so windy!
This race was the Saturday after Thanksgiving. On the Thursday before, my friend Natalie who I had known since kindergarten, and who had lived around the corner from me all of my childhood- her mother died from brain cancer. I felt numb. I had messaged my parents on Wednesday night letting them known Sandy was going home on hospice if they wanted to go see her- the family was asking for visitors. But Natalie posted on Facebook Thursday morning that Sandy was already gone.
My best friend Kristin's dad Jerry had already died in August, and that had been so overwhelming I had just gone into "helper" mode. Another good friend whose mom died too young had helped me make goody bags to entertain all of the kids at the funeral so the grown ups could just focus on taking care of themselves, and I had just tried to pitch in and help wherever I could. Jerry always treated me like a spare kid- even added me and labeled me on Facebook as one of his children (a loving act I didn't feel I could acknowledge without upsetting my parents, but one that endeared me to him forever.) Sandy dying unleashed those feelings much more so. That was Thursday.
On Monday (before Thanksgiving) I had been at school talking with the program assistant in the office and said goodbye and walked out of the building to go home. My phone beeped with a text message from my friend Kristin, Jerry's daughter. It said, " Did you see Kelly Dorn died."
My brain talked to me like it was a separate entity from my body. I heard it say, "Do you want to go to your car and be in private when you react to this? Or do you want to go back into the office and be with people? You have about 20 seconds to get where you want to be, and then it will be too late."
I met Kelly Dorn in 7th grade. She was a really good friend. She was a fellow wedding photographer . She asked me to shoot her wedding actually (I was booked though; something I will always regret), and came to me for advice regularly. Kelly came to my birthday parties, was a confidante, and signed my year book every year. We sang in choir together, took craft classes and had dozens of mutual friends. Her best friend Barbara was another mutual friend. Kelly used to read this blog. Kelly knew all of my secrets.
When Kelly delivered her daughter 4 years before her death she was diagnosed with a fatal heart condition (PPCM) Peri/Post Partum Cardiomyopathy. Her heart functioned like an old person's. With careful care and monitoring she could live awhile, but Kelly didn't have great coping mechanisms with the stressors in her life and probably shortened her life because of it. Her husband came home from a late shift at the hospital and she was gone. She had been home alone with their daughter at the time. It was the first night their daughter ever slept through the night without climbing in bed with mom and dad. Ever. Tender mercies.
The day I found out I stared at my phone for a second, and then turned around and ran back into the law school. I wanted to be with people. I didn't want to do this alone.
I burst back into the program assistant's office and said "My friend died. Close the door."
Another student was in the office- a student whose parents had passed away a few years ago and she reached over and closed the door. They both looked back at me wide eyed- horrified at my words.
Then I lost control.
I hyperventilated.
I sobbed.
I shook.
They tried to put me in a chair or on the floor and tried to get me to slow down my breathing until I just started crying that everybody dies, and why does everybody have to die?
I don't remember much about being there. I don't really remember anything else about the rest of the day. Sarah picked me up at home that night.
Saturday I ran Hot Buttered Run, and I ran it with this shirt I made.
The front said, "You are so dear to me." And the back said, "Jerry, Sandy, Kelly."
About halfway through the race a woman struck up a conversation with me about my shirt and I told her about all three of my friends who died, and we talked about them for the whole second half of the race. I cried off and on, but I finished.
And that's all that really was important about that day.
1 comment:
I love you sweetie. Thank you for keeping my mother's memory alive in your heart. She really liked you and would have been honored to be on your shirt. Kelly dying hit me like a ton of bricks. She was kind enough to offer to help me after my mother died, and so losing her felt like some sort of cruel punishment. You are adored by those around you and I miss being able to run down the street to play.
Post a Comment