Down the Rabbit Hole

These days

It seems these days I can do nothing but think. I am consumed by thoughts of Melanie, how she must be feeling, if she is scared, how much pain she is dealing with...It seems that I can think of little else. She looks to me as if she is fading faster every time I see her. There is some relief in finding her sleeping, at least then there are no grimaces of pain that interupt conversation or cloud her eyes momentarily. It hardly seems real that this person was once the vibrant and beautiful woman I watched dance with my husband on our wedding day only two years ago. Even in these last few days I sit in awe of her strength and her humility and her indelible faith in her God. The heavy wooden cross someone made her sits, if not in her palm, by her side. Her room has become filled with flowers and photos. I stare at her images in those pictures and my heart just aches. Melanie should be doing a thousand other things than dying here. A friend told us Melanie commented that she could no longer even hold her daughters, a comment that evokes as much anger as it does unbearable sadness.
Monday night when I visited her, I found her awake. I sat by her side and watched a silly video my sister had made her of her horse farm. My sister rode her horse Gabe for the first time and annouced while astride the animal, that she was training Gabe so she could teach Melanie's girls to ride. Melanie turned to her Grandmother and said, "Did you hear that? Oh my God the girls are going to love that." Toward the end of the visit Melanie needed oxygen and she sank back into the bed and appeared to be sleeping. When I went to leave, I slipped my hand into hers and she opened her eyes. I knew I had to tell her then that my husband and I decided to name the baby after her. Melanie sighed and then she began to weep. "That is the nicest thing." She told me. Then, she suddenly looked at me with concern and asked, "Are you sure?" I had to laugh a little bit at that. My cousin is so humble and unassuming. "Absolutely" I said, pulling her to me and losing it as tears streamed down both our faces. Outside in the hall, her mother made me repeat the name a few times, Jaden Melanie, and with her own emotions flowing, told me it was beautiful. What I wanted to say to Melanie, I never got out. I was so overcome with emotions, forming words was so difficult. Instead, we simply cried and held each other. What I wanted to tell her is that this way she can be part of my daughter's life forever. I will teach my daughter about her namesake, I will impart the lessons I have learned from Melanie. My greatest hope for my daughter is that she inherits my cousin's strength of spirit, her unyielding faith, her amazing humility and most of all, her uncompromising and unconditional love. It is hard on the heels of that visit, to see Melanie now. I want to remember her as she was that night, I want to remember the intimacy of that moment, the importance of it, the light in her eyes. I want to remember those few seconds when she bowed her head in understanding and then erupting into tears of earnest joy and gratitude, knowing in some small way, she would be a part of my baby's life...when she had so wanted to be here for her birth.
These days I jump when the phone rings. Knowing the call may come soon does not make things any easier. While we all wait for her to find peace and an end what must be constant pain, no one is looking forward to Melanie leaving us. Yesterday my father was with his brother as he made the funeral arraignments for Melanie. I have never heard my father so anguished as when he told me afterwards that, "it had been really bad." The oldest of the brothers, my father has stepped up and taken over the logistics of it all from now on so his brother can just simply be with his daughter. I am proud of my father, he really is the big brother, though I know this burden is particularily hard to bare given the grief and loss inherent in it. Because I am my father's daughter, I feel his frustration, his sadness at not being able to fix this, to make this less agonizing for his brother. Instead, my father has been tirelessly doing what he does best, working the phone with clients and vendors, securing donations and funds for Melanie and her girls. He shows up in my office with baskets and checks then goes out again or gets back on the cell to keep at it.
This weekend promises perfect weather for her benefit. The word has spread and we all hope for an incredible turnout. We all hope Melanie can watch it unfold via webcam but these days, all the hours hold uncertainty. These days I pray only for her peace, freedom from pain and from fear and that Melanie knows only that the grace of her God surrounds and protects her and that she is treasured by her loved ones.