I’ve always been really bad at endings. Well, now that I think about it, I was pretty bad at middles too. I’m talking about relationships. Like all of my relationships from best friends to lovers to co-workers, and even some situations were not always clean and clear about the way they ended on my end. Not that all of them could be clear, life doesn’t work that way, but there was a lingering of sorts of some of them.
I didn’t realize that until my sister was dying and even then it was more in my body than in my conscious mind. When I knew that my time with Kris was limited, I knew that I couldn’t let my sister leave the physical existence of our relationship in the same way other things have ended in my life. I couldn’t avoid this ending. It was going to happen and I needed to be really conscious about the moments we had left together. My sister had breast cancer that eventually spread to her brain, so 6 months after intense radiation, she was in and out of lucidity. It was a side effect of the radiation. This is around the same time her body started to shut down as the cancer made its way into her liver. “Too many lesions to count” was noted on her last PET scan. I didn’t know what that meant, I just knew it was bad. I got the text from my dad and got in the car for the 60 minute drive down to see them all. I called my friend Natalie on the way because I knew she would know. She lost both her parents to cancer and she was my “cancer guide”. She told me it was bad and that it was about to be the end, in so many words. She said it without saying it but making sure I knew what she meant, the only way a best friend could.
I was the one to tell my sister about her liver. My mom told her earlier in the day but she wasn’t totally with it , had just taken her pain meds and fell asleep. I took second shift that day. When she woke up from her nap, she immediately asked me “what did the doctor say?” I read her the report. She said, “Is that bad? It sounds bad?” I said, “Yes Kris, It’s bad. Really bad.” She started to cry. She didn’t want to believe it. She called her husband who assured her that she should wait to talk to her oncologist before she reacted. I sat on the edge of the couch, hunched over, clutching my toes. Having an out of body experience (which would be the one of many) and trying to keep it together. A few tears streamed down my face, without me blinking. She looked at me and said she wasn’t ready to die. I said that I wasn’t ready for her to die either, none of us were. We cried. She made me promise to take care of her boys. “Promise me Kari! Promise me that you will make sure the boys are okay.” I promised. It was the promise of a lifetime. I told her I was angry with her for leaving me alone with my parents. She said “You just have to be a big girl now, Lovey.” ("Lovey" was what she called me since I was a kid.) I didn’t know if that was her falling back into her haze or if she meant to say “big girl”, it seemed so out of context, so "big sister/little sister" but when we were just little kids. Now I think it was a little bit of both. I was her little sister. She may have been waiting to say that for years. And she was right. It was time I grew up.
The next two weeks were painful and amazing. We had great talks when she could talk. I taught her a breathing exercise that was able to calm her down and provide her some comfort. The best thing for me was that she allowed me to help her. It was a true bond between sisters. It was evident that she trusted me.
One night, after helping her out of the tub and handing her Q-tips as she laid on the bed while I put lotion on her legs she said, “Oh I LOVE cleaning my ears.” We laughed. Then she said, “I’m not afraid anymore, lovey. I feel like, at peace. Like my aura or something is peaceful. I used to make fun of you all the time, talking about stuff like this, but now I know what you meant.” I was relieved to hear that she was experiencing peace among all the pain. I was happy to hear that she finally understood me. I was grateful for these moments we were sharing. I was finally at peace too. Becoming peaceful with endings. The most difficult ending of my life so far, but I was grateful I got to experience it. To be able to have that ending was a gift.
This is when I began looking at other endings in my life. The grief I was experiencing was enormous and I wondered if I was mourning other endings too. I was confident that I was. I decided to pull back, to spend a lot of time alone, to conserve my energy, to be really careful about how and with whom I spent my time, to allow myself all the time and space I needed to grieve, to reflect, to decide, maybe for the first time, how I wanted to move forward in life. Who I wanted to be, what I wanted to do, what needed closure and what needed resolution in my life. I began to evaluate where I needed healing, which relationships needed to be nurtured and which ones I needed to let go. The relationship with myself came first. I needed to close the open chapters of my life and heal within.
The second greatest experience I had with endings is the one where I would start to end the destructive relationship I’ve been having with myself for the last 30 years. Ending the external influences that create internal noise and conflict, ending the judgment and expectations, ending the stories I tell to keep me from my authentic self, ending the hurt and beginning to heal was the only way I could see out of this grief. Because like Kris said, it was time for me to be a big girl. It was time for me to stop hiding and start doing. I have two teenage nephews who will hold me accountable for everything. I need to be a good example. I need to help guide them into being compassionate, productive adults. I promised my sister. I need to be a good daughter. A good friend. A good teacher. A good support system. But none of this could happen until I ended the negative relationship with myself. It's a BIG ending. The ending of all endings. And while this process of healing is ongoing and I will make mistakes along the way – I have realized that some endings are truly just inspired beginnings. And for me, that shift in perspective is changing the way I feel about endings.
xoxo,
Kfitz