Sunday, February 1, 2009

Someone Waits for You...

For some reason, I connect Carly Simon songs with the year my dad was ill and passed away.

I used to listen to her a lot. ("Jesse" is a really fun song to sing while you are cleaning and making your bed in the morning..) Carly was also battling cancer herself that year, so perhaps that further explains the connection. I used to listen to one song, "Someone Waits for You" over and made me feel better.

I feel my family has been given a lot to handle, both in the past and right now. We have been around more than our share of sickness, suffering and loss. Sometimes I look around and see other families that haven't really had experiences like ours, and it makes me very sad and bitter. Why were we chosen to have to deal with this? Why can't everyone in our family live to be healthy at ninety-years-old?

Oh, my heart knows more with each passing day,
And I know I'll change if you leave or stay.
But when our world turns where it's turning to,
You'll see some hearts fade, while mine shine's on through,
I will still be there some day for you.

I feel like I run away and hide when things get rough. I'd rather walk around the block by myself and cry than be around somebody who is suffering. Right before my dad died, I had to leave the room. Nobody else had to. Sometimes I wonder how somebody as incredibly sensitive as myself (and I am, no doubt, one of the most sensitive people in the world) can't come through more in these times. I lose it, and cry like a crazy person and make things worse for everybody...I wish I could be stronger.

Last week, I was honest with my family...that I hoped that they knew that my absence didn't mean that I didn't love everybody very much, or that I wasn't thinking about them every day. They understood...and that's what I needed to hear. I feel stronger now.

You see, somewhere, someone waits for you,
Who hopes you will come through,
Who'll wait until you do.
You'll see a line at some familiar door,
And when you reach the shore,
Life won't hurt any more.

I have this very clear memory from the day after my dad died. My mom and my aunt were making the funeral arrangements, and my sister, cousin and I were sitting in the waiting room together. I can kind of see it from the outside...three somber-looking brunettes who were really drained...but, no matter how drained we were, we were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder. We weren't alone...and no matter what happened, we would get through it all together.

Last week, I confronted my fears and visited an ill relative. It was hard for me, but when I was greeted by a little 3-year-old who happily grabbed me by the hand and led me to see that relative, a lot of my fears went away. She was unphased by the sadness and sickness surrounding us, and I wished so much, just for a minute, that we could all have the outlook of a three-year-old. She made me realize that this is all a part of life...and life goes on. I also know that not everybody is blessed as I am to have the family I was given, and perhaps the fact that we're all so close is what makes these things so difficult.

I know that I wasn't alone ten years ago, and I'm not alone now...

Remember, night may trouble you, with endless dreams,
But blue skies wait for you beyond the sunrise.
I'm here, so walk into your fate,
It never is too late.
There's someone smiling through,
Who'll do all they can do, for you.
Remember, somewhere, someone waits for you.

Diana Rissetto