Melva June & Tom Solon
This morning, I got an unexpected phone call from Melva. I've mentioned her to you before. She's been my "mom-away-from-mom" for many years. She's been there for me through so many ups and downs in my life, when I lived in DC and in Michigan, and now in Pittsburgh. She's called me, she's visited me, I've gone to visit her and met her family---we've been like two peas in a pod. She's also Kevin Chalfant's older sister.
In recent years, she's had increasing health issues with cancer. It started in her jaw, and spread all through her body despite chemotherapy and holistic health methods. Sometime around Christmas, she unexpectedly had to go into the hospital. I had no idea what happened, but she explained to me today over the phone that she had developed a blood infection, and spent 2 weeks in the hospital. She said if they hadn't caught it when they did, and given her the antibiotics right away, she would have died.
Then she told me that she's home now, and has a hospital bed there, and she needs a walker to get around. She's still weak, and doesn't have energy to get on the computer to send email or write on Facebook for updates on what's going on, so she wanted to call me instead.
As we talked, I realized that something wasn't quite right, but I also had to consider the fact that Florence was sitting nearby, so I couldn't react with upset or concern, or start crying, because she picks up on that stuff and copy-cats it without realizing it. (Part of Alzheimers...she is very empathic...if I am happy, she is in a happy mood. If I am sad, she is too).
So when Melva told me that they are going to bring in hospice soon...and in her words, "Everybody has to kick the bucket someday you know," my heart broke and I wanted to sob. But I couldn't, and I didn't, and I just tried to make light of it---"Oh you're stronger than you know, Melva, you'll make it through this, I've known you for a long time, it'll be okay, just keep praying and doing all that you're doing." What else could I say without making Florence upset? I told Melva I would donate my blood to her, or even a kidney if she needs one---anything---because I love her. I just wanted to cry so badly, to really react in the way that she probably expected---but I couldn't.
The fact of the matter is, she will probably die soon. And this was my farewell phone call.
I will have many more of these moments, in the next few years, but I don't think they will get any easier. I mean, I live with Pete's 89 year old mother, every day, morning noon and night, and I know at some point she will be dying soon too. That is going to rip me to shreds. My friend for 15 years, Miep Gies, passed away last year at this time at the age of 100 and I still cry about it. In addition to several of my "peeps" at the Museum that I worked with daily who have passed since I stopped working there, my other Holocaust Survivor friend, Nesse Godin, is near the same age, so she'll pass on at some point soon, too. Not to mention Manya Friedman and Rabbi Jacob Weiner, my other two favorites. And my own mom is only 62 but she has COPD and often gets bronchitis and pneumonia, she has a very weak immune system, so I don't know if she'll even live to see her 80's. Then there's my best friend Laurie's parents, and my best friend Annette's parents, all in their 60's and 70's.
And then there's you. I know you're only 63, but....I will be a complete MESS when you die.
What if Pete dies before I do? I can't even fathom that thought. I hope I go first. And then there's my dog, she'll be turning 9 soon...I don't know how many years I have left with her, either. I'm really in for a lot of hurt, over and over, and over. I don't know if I can handle it. I really don't think I can.
So, I have a lot of sad moments that I'll have to get through as all these people I love pass on. That's one of the things about getting older that I really loathe. I don't WANT to lose everyone I love. I mean, Florence breaks my heart when she says she's got "nobody left," because her parents are gone, her sister is gone, her husband is gone, etc., and I think to myself, "I don't want to live to be 89."
It's a lonely world, and when someone who means so much calls to say she's dying, well, it makes for a rather difficult day to get through...and that's an understatement. I've been dwelling on it all day long. When I told Pete that I was a bit confused and concerned about Melva's call, and that she might be dying soon, he really didn't express any concern for ME at all----no hug, no mention of "I'm so sorry," nothing. And it made me feel so empty. He had no idea what I needed from him, and I just didn't have the energy or frame of mind to tell him what I needed either.
So I haven't cried, but as I sit here writing to you, I feel tears in my eyes. I just wrote a letter to Melva, which I'll be sending tomorrow. I asked her if I could come visit her one last time. She may not feel up to having visitors, but if she would allow it, I would like to be there, to sit with her, laugh with her, and pray with her.
I feel it's important to do this, because with all those others I mentioned, I never got to say goodbye---and some I feel horrible about because I left them high and dry on 9/11, without so much as a glance back as I ran home to Michigan with my tail between my legs. The guilt I still feel for that, really gnaws at me even now. I did what all the non-Jews in their neighborhoods did when the Nazis came. I ran in fear for MYSELF, without giving them a thought, and now some of them are dead and gone. I can never ask their forgiveness for that. And that is something I will never forgive MYSELF for either.
I am glad at least that Melva thought enough of me to call and say her goodbyes.
But it leaves me feeling so empty. I have distracted myself all day with giving away items to freecycle people, and reading silly and funny things on the internet to pass the time. But inside, I've been so upset, and so horribly sad...I mean, I know there's nothing I can really do to change anything, I can't save the world, I can't save my loved ones, I can't save MYSELF much less anybody else. I know this. But part of me still WANTS TO TRY. Ya know? It tears me apart. My guts feel bruised all over right now. Like somebody has been punching me repeatedly. And when Pete comes up from behind to give me a hug and start kissing my neck, it makes me HURT because those bruises are fresh, and causing me pain.
It pains me that he doesn't understand, and doesn't know how to comfort me when I need it. I can tell you exactly what Peter would have done....he would have sat down with me, put his arms around me in a big hug, and he would have said "I'm so sorry you're losing your mom-away-from-mom, I know how much she means to you...and how hard this is..." and he would let me cry, but he'd just hold me awhile until I finished. Then he would suggest that I write to her, or plant a tree in her memory, or something positive to remember her by, like donating money in her name to a charity, etc., and would help me get through it. He would understand, and know how to help me deal with it. I miss his friendship a lot.
Not all men were raised to know how to be sensitive and understanding though, many were taught how to keep their feelings to themselves, and not reveal too much vulnerability. Pete is great to joke around with, he's great to tease and laugh with---but when it comes to deep emotional stuff like this, he's rather aloof, and unsure of how to deal with it. And I have no idea how to change that.
Anyway, so now I'm off to bed, to cry awhile when nobody else is around, and pray for Melva. I ask that you pray for her too. If you're so inclined and have a friendship with Kevin, please call him also.
I know you went through the loss of your mother and the pain of it still stays with you now, so it helps me to tell you about this. It was probably the worst phone call I've ever received in my whole life.
One other horrible phone call I received on November 2, 2005 was from the policeman I contacted in Michigan to report a strange message I got on my computer from my friend Thom. We had only been online chat buddies for a year or two, we'd never met in person, but he had a crush on me....and we were planning to meet in person in a few weeks when I went home for the holidays.
I got to work that morning, to find a message waiting for me---this was not unusual---that said he "cherished" me. He had said that before, and he continued to say he didn't want me to worry, that he was going away for awhile, to a better place, and he'd miss me a lot. I didn't think much of it at first, figuring he was going on a vacation. He had just told me the day before that he was waiting for an answer from the bank regarding a loan to keep his family business going. The answer he got at the end of the day was "No." So as I thought more about it, and re-read his message several times, a chill ran through me.
After I debated with myself for awhile, I finally called the police in his town, told them I was worried, and asked if they would take a ride by his house to make sure he was okay. I figured they would tell me to take a flying leap. But the policeman took a very inquisitive interest in my concern, and told me that his family had just reported him as missing. He said that whenever an adult is reported as missing, the police cannot do any searching for 72 hours. My call, however, gave them reason to search much sooner than that because they now suspected "foul play." I felt sick to my stomach.
A few hours later, during my lunch break, and all my unanswered frantic messages to Thom still staring at me on my screen, I got the call back from the police, telling me they had just found him dead in his truck, which was still running. He had driven to a remote park several miles from his house, and put a hose from the exhaust pipe to his window, and asphyxiated himself. Not only that, but he also took 5 bottles of sleeping pills, which were laying beside him.
My friend Thom killed himself, and left ME his goodbye note on the computer. If I had just called him the night before, or chatted with him that night, maybe he'd still be alive. I'll never know, but the guilt of that still haunts me too. He left behind 3 kids and an ex-wife. He left before Thanksgiving & Christmas. But that's one HELL of a way to tell someone they "CHERISH" them, don't you think?? Yeah, I'm so damned CHERISHED, he couldn't wait THREE LOUSY WEEKS TO MEET ME IN PERSON??? Yeah, real fucking "cherished." Let me tell you just how horrible I felt when THAT happened. I ended up losing my job shortly afterwards, because I just couldn't sit there in that cubicle anymore, reliving that day over and over.
Oh, but it gets even worse.
A week after his death, I got a call from some woman who said she was a friend of Thom's, and that he had asked her to check his email while he was on vacation. When she saw my frantic emails, she wanted to contact me to explain that he was OKAY, and just "away for awhile," but "would be back soon." I was stunned. I was confused. I sat there in silence for a minute or two, and finally realized: this woman, this "friend" of his, didn't know he was dead. He had already been dead and buried a week, but she didn't know. Again, I felt sick to my stomach.
So I had to tell a total stranger, someone who he had visited the night before he killed himself, that he had was dead. He had asked this woman to take care of some things for him---like checking his email, delivering some items to his ex-wife, putting a note on his father's grave, etc....she said he then had dinner with her, took a quick shower, and left with a small bag of toiletries...she thought that was strange, not to have a suitcase or something for a vacation, but she didn't really think much of it at the time. She didn't believe what I told her until I gave her the web site link for his obituary, and she looked at it while we were on the phone. We sat and cried together for an hour or more, she couldn't believe he would do such a thing. "WHY?" she kept saying, "WHY DIDN'T HE TALK TO ME? I COULD HAVE HELPED HIM SOMEHOW!"
..........so.......I don't know which is worse, to talk to someone I love who is dying and wants to say her goodbyes, or to find a suicide note on my computer screen from a friend I wanted to meet.
In all these cases, my heart has been broken so much, I don't ever expect to put it back together again. All that's left are shards and gaping holes where pieces have fallen away.
Well, I'm going to bed now. I just needed to pour out my guts to someone who might understand.
Love, Rebecca
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