Wow - what an emotional week. Found out a favorite aunt had passed away. Had meant to go see her for the last two years since she only lived about 4 hours away in Alabama and you know, it was just one of those things "I'd get to tomorrow". So when I found out she was put into hospice, I was ready to go see her immediately. Or at least on Saturday.
Friday night I tried to reach her sons, my cousins, and got no answer. Some part of me knew it was too late...so on Saturday when I called to see if she was up for accepting visitors, the answer was...not so much. I was overwhelmed by how much this grieved me. Immediately I was in tears while talking to her son Thomas. And it felt so strange because he hardly knows me and I guess I hardly know him. Cousins and yet so much strangers.
When I called my folks to tell them that it was too late, I couldn't quit crying. Mom tried hard to tell me it was alright, that Aunt Caroline was ready to go. I told her I wasn't crying for her, I was crying for me. Crying that time is not elastic. That tomorrow's don't always come. I was crying for all sorts of regrets over the last few years of things I meant to do and didn't. Reminding me all the more of why I want to have this surgery.
I want to travel more. And a fat flyer is a miserable flyer. You find yourself grasping your elbows to your chest so that you don't spill over into your seatmate, making you all to aware that's there's a real reality to some airlines' desire to charge double to the chunky folk on their plains.
I want to see people I've been too embarrassed to see for five years. If you wonder why I haven't come to visit even when I'm in town...here's your answer. Most of you have seen me at my best. So hate to see you when I'm at my biggest. Deliberately didn't say my worst, because by so many measures...I'm at my best - just not physically. And that's the first thing we judge each other by. Even me. really. I swear I can be just as snarky as the rest. FYI...fat girls out there...do NOT wear spandex. It's rude to those around you. Also, sleeveless t's. It's like advertising mutton chops no one wants to think about.
So back to the funeral. So glad I went. No one loves to drive in silence as much as I do. I love reading road signs, billboards, free thinking to the wind. Spent time wondering about what I would like my own funeral to be like. What songs to play, what reading to read, what bit of me I could bring out so that it wasn't just so 'right'. I laughed at my Uncle Gary who said his daughter and I were 'deliberately unique.' I thought that was a wonderful label. I want my funeral to be cry, cry, cry...laugh, laugh, laugh. I want my stories told by the people who know and love me best. The ones that I tell at every happy hour and every stranger because they could only have happened to me.
So in this vein, I made my will. You'd be amazed at how little of value you have to give away - but there's stuff there you don't want forgotten. I don't expect to die on the table...though I had to sign away that possibility the other day. So just in case I thought I should at least be prepared. We should all be prepared. You never know when you will be hit by a bus.
So live large, eat small, and love boundlessly. I think this is a bit of what it's about.
Love Cam
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