I realized this morning that I am still angry with her after all these years. Not the raging, fire-breathing, yelling kind of anger but the hollow, puzzled kind of anger. I’ve had my bouts of dragon-anger but it has flamed out to a low-level undercurrent that I don’t even recognize most of the time.
This time of year with its PinkOuts and Kicks Against Breast Cancer and pink fountains, shoelaces, referee flags, and t-shirts stirs the coals. All the admonishments to go get a mammogram, do self-checks, be aware and proactive. She heard them and knew their value. She’d been down this road before – this wasn’t her first rodeo with breast cancer.
And yet, she didn’t.
I don’t understand. There are many who think they can guess why and she may have even said why on different occasions. I’m not truly sure she understood why. What she knew and when and why she waited, we can only guess.
She had so many reasons to live – her son and her husband and her legion of friends and her family and her career and so much more. So many reasons to follow all the medical advice. So many people who loved her dearly and treasured her laughter and friendship and companionship.
And yet, she died.
Leaving a swath of mixed emotions behind like a clean swept wheat field standing tall today and cut short the next. I am still angry – the hollow, puzzled kind of anger.
And yet, I still miss you and love you much, Karen.
Just Sayin' 