Light’s out
April, 2000
I’m far, far away from my care free days, the days when my three best friends and I would ditch class and go to Santa Cruz. We’d stare out at the ocean as we drank the alcohol we stole from our parent’s liquor cabinets and talk about boys as we listened to Forever Young on our tape recorder over and over again. I’m far away from the days when I married the boy I dreamt about since the moment I laid eyes on him. Far away from the day I turned my back on that boy and met the man of my dreams and he showed me I didn’t have to dream anymore. Everything’s a blur now, now that death and its dream-killing qualities have taken over my life.
Kelly won’t take my calls. It’s been three weeks since I found out about her cancer, and I still don’t know any more today than I did on the day I found out about it. I take that back. I know a shit load about her disease, just nothing about how she’s coping with it. My office has literally turned into a research center. Books and pamphlets about pancreatic cancer litter my desk and my voicemail is maxed out with messages from John’s Hopkins, Virginia Mason Medical Center, University of Chicago, and a dude named Charlie Spencer. Poor Charlie…he’s a guy I found in an Internet chat room and is near death from the damn disease. Just like I’ve attacked everything in the past, from trying to be popular in high school, to making Kurt fall in love with me, to Leo in the front seat of my car on the night I met him, I’ve attacked Kelly’s pancreatic cancer with the hope of curing it. But I’m failing miserably. Like Charlie told me, there’s nothing I can really do for her except love her and support her. Charlie doesn’t know Kelly.
The only thing I know how to do well these days is go to my church and pray; which in my world means going to the old dilapidated yoga studio and striking a pose. Every day, to my boss’ condemnation, I leave my research center/office early, drive straight to the yoga studio, and try to make some sense out of everything that’s happening. It’s quiet, it’s cleansing, it’s nurturing and I just found out that I, too, is dying. The owner has three months left on the lease and then she’s moving to the beach to retire.
I was dealing with my divorce from Kurt like a champ. I finally started coping with the loss of Leo with grace, and I’ve been processing Kelly’s disease with courage. I’ve been able to semi-handle everything on my own because I had my safe yoga studio to hide out in, to process my pain in, to sweat out the tears in. But now that my sanctuary’s gonna kick the bucket, just like everything else in my life, I’m back in Dr. Maria’s office. It’s been months since I’ve been here, but the magazines are still the same and, unfortunately, so is Sad Frumpy Lady. Same outfit, same blank stare, same nothing.
“Everyone’s dying.”
“No, just Kelly.”
“Leo’s long gone…might as well be dead. Kurt’ll have to be dead to me when the divorce is final. Kelly’s got God only knows how much time left, and now my yoga teacher is leaving me. I’m fighting to do all the right things, make all the right choices…but still, nothing good is coming of it!”
“Then you have to fight harder, make even better choices. What’s the alternative?”
“Quitting”
“Quitting what?”
“Life.”
“You mean kill yourself?!”
“Hell no, do you really think I’m capable of that?”
“Well, no but…”
“I mean I should just quit caring, stop loving, stop trying to make something of myself and accept the fact that this is my pathetic life, so stop expecting something more.”
“Yeah, that sounds like a great plan.”
“Well, let’s see…I’ll never find love like I had with Leo. I’ll always have to work for an a*shole because I’m not rich and, essentially, I have zero creative talent and my best friend is about to die for no reason I can make sense out of! I can love and care and try all I want, but nothing’s gonna change any of that stuff. There’s no silver lining.”
“You have to create it.”
“OUT OF WHAT!?”
“Out of your dreams. They can come true, you know.”
“You sound like a Disneyland commercial.”
“Think what you want. But know this: no one will want your dreams to come true more than you, so you alone have to make them happen, Chrissy. Don’t expect much help.”
“All the dreams in the world can’t change the fact the Kelly’s gonna die.”
“You might be right about that, but let’s think rationally for a minute. You had dreams with Kelly that came true, right?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, you two dreamt of going to college together and you made that happen. You two dreamt of getting your first apartment together and you made that happen. You two dreamt of being each other’s maid of honor and you made that happen. You made realistic dreams come true.”
“And I still have dreams that include her! God…if there really is such a thing, is getting in the way of my dreams. I hate him…her…whatever it is.”
“It’ll take time, but you’ll replace the dreams you had with her with new ones…if you let it happen.”
“I don’t want new dreams.”
“Okay then, quit dreaming. My colleague here has a client who did that. It’s a very, very sad case. The worst I’ve ever heard.”
I’m relieved that I’m actually not the worst case she’s ever heard of but also frustrated that I have to ask, “Well, aren’t you gonna tell me about it!?”
“Her patient, a woman…she was a brilliant professor at UC Berkley. Had so much to look forward to…so many dreams. She married her first and only love right out of grad school and a few years later, had a baby girl. All of her dreams were coming true, but then God interfered.”
“What do you mean interfered?”
“Her husband and daughter were caught under the rubble of the Cypress structure when it collapsed in the Loma Prieta earthquake in 1989.”
“Oh, no! What happened to them?”
“They died and, in a sense, she died with them. She won’t get rid of her husband’s clothes. She won’t change a thing about her baby’s room, left it exactly how it was the day of the earthquake. Her hair is the same, her clothes are the same. Basically, she stopped looking forward.”
“Geez, that earthquake was like…eleven years ago.”
“I know. The poor woman stopped dreaming eleven years ago. I’m not saying anyone could or should get over something so terrible, but to stop dreaming all together…well that’s just another form of death. I thought you knew that better than anyone, Chrissy.”
D’oh! I’m so sick of Dr. Maria and her full circle trickery!
“You’re making me feel like a fool.”
“I’m not trying to. I’m just trying to make you see that if we open our hearts and minds, I mean really open them to the point that it feels uncomfortable to do so, even in the midst of tragedy, there’s an opportunity to find some good stuff that we never knew existed.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean good can come out of even the most horrific experiences.
Who knows what that woman’s life would be like now if she were able to open her heart and mind to love. Maybe she would’ve met another man…had another child. They wouldn’t replace the ones she lost, but she wouldn’t be haunted by dead dreams anymore. Those would be put to rest by the new ones she has for herself and the new ones she loves.”
I think about how much I’ve been haunted by dead dreams, the ones I had with Kurt…the ones I had with Leo. I’ll friggin’ implode when I have to layer the dreams I had with Kelly on top of those. I’ll be like dead girl walking.
“My yoga studio’s been the only place where I come close to opening my heart and mind. I’m a mess outside of it. I hate my job, and all I do at my cottage is drink wine and pace around. When I’m at the studio, doing my thing, I’m strong and hopeful. I’m confident that everything will work out; that I’ll be okay no matter what happens. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because yoga is something I never considered doing; it’s so opposite of who I thought I was. But once I opened my mind to it, I found something I love, something I’m really good at, something I depend on…Wow, that’s kinda what you were just talking about.”
“Kinda, hunny.”
“I can’t let that place die.”
“Then you better start dreaming up a mess of something good.”