I took a long weekend and attempted to go home. Between what I thought I needed and what I planned on - life happened. My late night ferry was replaced by good company, a home cooked dinner, a few too many glasses of something good, and the swaying of 900 in front of a stage. Classic tunes encouraged the crowd to roar and the heads to bob. Dedication of the old and the newness of the young left the six of us in a weird "in-between" stage. I and another found ourselves crushed into the overly dedicated and well aware of the "cling-ons"... a late start introduced me to Seth, apparently a neighbour of mine. Seth was an interesting lad who was at least five years my junior. You could tell it was a good night because my one friend kept telling me there was no harm in a cheeky s'nog. I'm not sure if I was too sober or too aware of my environment to know that kissing him was a bad idea... of course this made me shine a little less in a friend's eye, but when his dancing (oh the dancing) started I knew I had made the right decision.

That's not to say there wasn't kissing. I was just merely the receiver and not the pucker-upper. It's interesting what can happen if the circumstances are such and there is a sudden spark that was never there before... and speaking of before, this stay in the city ensured that I made a proper fool of myself twice over (and to think I got off work late!) First of all, I needed to know something about someone to know the level of death-con I needed to prepare for. I know it sounds silly, but it was my night with my friends and I didn't want a distraction I couldn't control (thankfully money was more enticing then my venue of choice.) And the second foolish opportunity was in the form of a long overdue call from me and a double Malibu pineapple. I am as classy as they come. I at least put laughter into his voice, but in my true fashion I think I mislead him once again into something more than nothing. I don't quite know how to describe this one other than it was a go before I traveled and now the tires are so worn they couldn't travel a foot even if there was any potential energy still lingering; which is fine, but it's a shame because we had great chemistry as friends. 

So après concert I and another crawled back to my hovel of a home for some slumber (too little for us old folks) and at a quarter to a crack of dawn our real day started. You know you're officially old when you can't survive on less than two hours of sleep. I crawled out of bed and into the car and slept on the way to the ferry... and then slept the whole ferry ride.... and slept for another couple of hours and then needed a few more zzzzzz's that I wouldn’t get and I had to cover with foundation (yes, confirming I am old.)

At three o'clock that afternoon I was due left of centre stage to watch the wedding of my year. I had met her through her then boyfriend. In some ways it was typical of a twenty-something romance... she had been dating this one guy for donkey's years and realized that he couldn't give her what she wanted/ needed/ expected. Then instead of worrying about what the future might hold she finally made time for the guy upstairs and a year later I was in my finest straining my neck to catch a glimpse of white.

The ceremony was perfect. As one guy put it - "it was perfect because there was nothing religious and it played perfectly on time... two more minutes and I would have been a goner." But for me it was more than that. I don't know the groom very well; however, I took some wise advice and watched what he did rather than what he said. In every action he declared his love for her. And if that wasn't enough the passion behind his vows ran deeper than the thoughts that pass through everyone's mind on a wedding day. He ached to say those words... rather than just following the JP's prompting. Most weddings offer a single girl like myself something to gaze at (usually three or four somethings right to of  the groom), but this wedding gave me spun me back into the circle I can’t seem to ever shake: Why would I ever settle for anything other than what I witnessed on that alter? I shouldn't, but until I saw it with my very own eyes I can't say I wouldn't have. At least I know true love does really exist.  

Sadly it doesn’t often exist at the reception, especially when you aren’t asked to bring a date. Lucky for me I was put at the single’s table. When I found that tidbit on the seating chart I was thinking it couldn’t be that bad; however, I was slightly mistaken. First and foremost, those not sitting as couples at the table had their other halves in the wedding party. Super. So if you can imagine me with little energy sitting directly across from the three amigos (you know the Groom’s best friends – that didn’t make the bridal party.) Trying to look at the bright side of things I looked at this as an amazing opportunity to meet three great guys and maybe learn a bit more about the Groom. Thankfully the waiter was quite attentive at the beginning of the evening and brought me some wine to loosen up. Apparently I was a rare specimen. Not only could I chat about nothing, I had insider knowledge on something one guy knew nothing about. Yeah, you can imagine where this is going - I was on a formally dressed job interview which included personal questions like: what is your religion? By the time our table had been cleared to make the dance floor. (Why would family and normal couples have to move from their comfy seats when the singles could get up and mingle?) I was ready to dance or leave. I figured dancing was higher up in the stack of cards and after the obligatory grooving I looked up and I had scared away my dancing partners. Good thing too, I have been known to bite heads off after sex.

The rest of my mini-break was good. I visited the old and the new while breaking my frugal (post-trip) spending and gave into the lush stores with a good exchange rate. We even took in a few casinos. Casinos always sound like a good idea in theory; however, they can bring out severe ugliness in a hurry. I am what they would call a “cheap / safe” gambler. I like my money and don’t like to lose it. My meager bets and clenched bills encouraged a win fall that bought me new boats and a casserole dish… yes, another thing to make me old but it is a fabulous dish that I can use while wearing my boots with pride.  

When I returned to the city, I went back to work in the west end core. I endured a long class with the newest batch of go getters dazzled by the acronyms and the sweet smells of productivity. As I left the class wondering if I really was going anywhere that I needed to go, I stopped for a quick lunch. I was standing in line of this popular bakery when I looked over at the cash register and noticed the unusual blackness of a guy’s hair. Thinking nothing more of it I opted for the double chocolate brownie rather than leaving it behind. The line snaked around and I caught myself looking again at the black haired guy thinking what an usual hair cut. And then I heard a friend’s voice in my head: “Quite the hair cut for a married guy.” Reacting to the memory my eyes snapped to his left hand and then to his jeans, and converse sneakers. He was the guitarist from the band I saw on the weekend. As he glanced up he pinky waved at the customer behind me. Yup, it was him.

I think I’m detached to the whole celebrity idea. In my neighborhood there is always a film crew set-up and in my work I always get to help the assistants of the assistants of the stars filming in that area. Then in this specific instance I saw a guy whose songs I knew and the only CD of his I owned was left in my player when my ex moved out (and yes, karma did let it be the one CD of theirs I don’t really like.) Leaving the bakery, I was thinking about the view I was walking towards, the movie crew’s tape I had to step over, a song I bellowed out, and how good the brownie was… when the guitarist stepped out in front of me causing me to nearly choke on my brownie and let a macadamia nut to fly down my shirt. So as you can imagine I’m trying to fish out the nut and say something to the effect of “I don’t mean to sound like a stalker, but I stared at you all Friday night” because you know nothing ever sane starts with those words. Not to worry, some how the nut had wedged itself somewhere bizarre and caught my tongue letting the guitarist move on without harm.

Later that night I had a log of missed calls. After dialing a number you have a small window to consider the call you’re trying to place. I knew deep down I didn’t want to, but I didn’t know why. I had no way of knowing until the words tumbled into my ear… “there’s nothing more they can do. They figure he has four to six weeks.”

These words hung in the air like a bad smell. I couldn’t process the words and yet my brain was cranking out thoughts quicker than my heart was racing. I had nothing to say and didn’t know what to do other than cry.

I wish I could say it was the first time in my life that I had something this huge and nobody around, but it wasn’t. You would think I would be better at it; I’m not. I had no one to hug me, hold me, or tell me meaningless things that would make the speaker feel as if they had provided me with comfort. I had tears streaming down my cheeks, as I do now, and yet these tears were not wasted.

My mind went blank and I needed someone else. Someone who didn’t already know and had not had any time to process the information. I needed the one person they chose not to tell daily events on the actual day because of reasons that I merely categorize as pointless. Thankfully he picked up the phone so I didn’t have to exchange pleasantries with someone I have yet to meet. He let me cry and blame whatever higher being I was channeling at the time because I could not understand the situation. I hate it, but I also don't know what I can really do about it... I mean if I could write a letter to his cancer, much like a child writes to Santa, I suppose it would go something like this:

Dear Cancer,

            Fuck you. How dare you take the best and continue to hide when the brightest among us try to seek you? I realize that you are not a new disease on the block, but your sudden growth is not welcomed here or anywhere else for that matter. I understand that there have been many clues about your causes over the years, but I’m starting to think that you are a mere copy cat rather than a strong independent source. I feel this because you ‘provide’ random tip offs – on the news one week you’re related to ingredients in hair dye and the next you are connected to carbonation – and then you shift your shape in the nick of time… I mean if you were “legit” wouldn’t you have constant traits and be powerful enough to rear your ugly head rather than bury yourself deeper into various souls.

I suppose you could be called the root of most disease evil because you want several dings of a boxing club’s bell when you should only need one good punch to incur a K.O. Your matches not only wear out your victim, but all of those who are sitting around the ring rooting for the other boxer. I won’t give you any credit, have you ever noticed you don’t have any ring side support? This mere fact should indicate you have more enemies than not.

I just found out that you have gone into a final battle with a close friend of my family. Now see here, this may be your third attack on my family, but don’t let this think that you have gained any strength in the real world. Our current boxer has fought a battle with much more courage and dignity than you will ever muster. And although you may feel that you deserve credit of some sort, I won’t give you any.

I don’t care that you are not working any harder than you did in the past. I don’t care that your job is easier because dietary and lifestyle changes have changed. I don’t care that you think it is kind that you have let a match carry on for two, nearly three years. The more I think of it, the more I find myself circling my original statement: Fuck you.

You may feel that you are stronger than ever, but you’re not. Testing and screening is now something that is talked about over the water cooler. Low researching funds are receiving new life because specific strains of yourself are becoming popular through recognition. I believe, it comes down to recognition… fear or ignorance of a specific thing can give that idea a dark power; where as, openness and discussion can shift the power by ensuring the power is giving to the person rather than the unknown.

Back to my previous point: I want to ensure you this battle isn’t done yet. You seem to forget that when this person you’ve picked on is too weak to enter the ring many others are willing to stand in to the ring out of love. His battle is far from over. And although you may feel that you are being “considerate” by allowing extra time for final goodbyes; you are merely dangling a treat in front of a curious cat.

Seriously, you are the one that is aiding the medical profession to give his family a set number of days – what are you expecting him to do, since you have robbed him of his usual energy, his daily routine, and physical appearance? Are you expecting him to stay up all night until he has to sleep? Or should he sleep and hope that when he passes it is as soothing as falling into a restful sleep? Forget it. I don’t want to know your answer. You don’t deserve to answer this scenario.

Instead I will tell you what he will be doing. He will be living everyday to the fullest. He will be telling his wife each and everyday how lucky he was to marry the most beautiful woman he knew. He will be telling her his favorite memories that they created as individuals, as a couple, as parents, as grandparents, and as friends. He probably won’t be spending his days reading tiresome books that he never did get around to, but his lap will be covered with photo albums and drawings with the words “for Grandpa”. His house will be filled with sounds of his beloved Canucks playing better than they have been. His mornings will be filled with sitting outside in his trusty chair – taking in all the sights and sound his life has to offer. These weeks will be filled with memories that he will be taking to the next world, because at this point I can only imagine that heaven is filled not only with friends and loved ones but a giant multi-plex that plays all of our memories like a double feature complete with guilt free popcorn and licorice.

Sure you might laugh at my naïveté, because you’ve been here before and have other plans. I don’t think you understand what you’re up against. And as long as you stand smugly with your arms crossed with the willingness to invade unknowing cells there will be a battle… and sooner or later they will put as much money towards anilelating you as they do on war. Then you will be history and highly unlikely to find yourself comfortably nestled between the bubonic plague and polio. Cancer, I think you need to think of what you are doing right now and what you have already done. It is time to let someone follow a trail and let them see why you’ve got your priorities all messed up.

~L~