Two days ago Daisy, a dear friend of the family lost her 7-year battle with cancer. This woman, my mother’s best friend, has been in my life since I started Kindergarten. She’d been at every birthday party, graduation, and religious ceremony I’d ever had. I could
describe our relationship to be of the aunt/niece variety, complete with plenty of adolescent drama.
When my husband and I decided to get married in September without the bells and whistles of a big wedding, she was one of the select few people who knew about it. And she was there, filming the entire ceremony on my Android phone while I said my vows under a tent in my childhood backyard. When I look at my marriage certificate, it is her scratchy penmanship that stares back at me from the witness line.
I had planned to visit her in the hospital on Wednesday night. I got the message just a few hours before leaving work that she was already gone. While I wish I had the chance to say goodbye, I’m almost glad I didn’t. The final image I have of her is the one from my wedding day, crying just as hard as my own mother was, and not the image of her wasting away in a hospital room.
Today I need to sit through her memorial service. I say “need to” not because I feel forced to attend, but rather because I consider the funeral to be the toughest part in coping with death. After this, I’ll have time to process the loss, maybe even write about her more in-depth.
I know this post is doing a poor job at describing who Daisy was, but I didn’t want to risk the cliche descriptions that people use like, “she was a good person” or “she could light up the room with her smile.” This post is more for me anyway, as selfish as that sounds.
So, my college days are over. I graduated in May and landed a job at a local school by August. And as if that weren’t enough, I got hitched in September. Life’s pretty great right now.
I’m lacking balance though. Yeah, I worked 4 jobs through college and balanced a full course load and social life. I thought my schedule would leave me more than prepared for the real world. After all, I wouldn’t have to work a variety of jobs to keep myself afloat once I had a “real” job. In some ways, I was right. In other ways, I’m not done transitioning to adulthood.
I miss having my Friday afternoons off. There’s no such thing as random days off in education, nor are there days that are just 8 hours long. Gone are the time gaps in my schedule that allowed me to pen a blog post or jot down a paragraph to a new fiction piece. Gone are the days where there are no responsibilities or chores to come home to.
Yet, the past few months have been my most productive. I’ve revised a significant portion of my current works in progress. I’ve started mapping out new projects. I have articles written for an outside website on Rheumatoid Arthritis that will be published soon. The amount of time I have to spend on blogging has been greatly reduced, but I’m working overtime to push my writing out into the world. I would consider that a small win.
I’ve been working in spurts. Some weeks are lazy and unproductive. I spend others writing like I only have a few days left to live. Hence the balancing problem. I’m writing, just not the way I should be. I want to come to a point in my balancing act where every day is spent with words. I want to read and absorb great writing and write plenty of great pieces myself. I guess that comes with time and life experience though.