Inspirational Woman of The Month (January 2012)

September 2009 I learned I had an aggressive breast cancer. Two months later, my mother got her breast cancer diagnosis, and three months after that, an attending physician in the ER broke the news that my father’s prostate cancer had spread to his lungs.  He passed away a few days ago after a long, tough battle.

Who would think death and “bliss” could be related?

I don’t think they are, at least not today while the grief is new.  But I can say that as we spent our last days together, holding tight to what’s good in the present moment, and recapturing “the best of the best” from the past felt very nice.  And I let go of my anger at cancer, fate, or whatever has made these things happen.
My entire family is together. With the person who probably made my father happiest being the one who slid into town two days before he finally let himself close his eyes and go—my daughter—his only grandchild. Marina lived with my parents for a year, and her name is on his customized license plate.

I blocked out death while I massaged his temples, his face, neck, and my brother and husband talked football scores at his bedside while my mom and sister pecked his cheeks. I tuned into his warm skin, his muscles loosening, and the energy passing between us. Even though he couldn’t form words, he held onto my hand when he got his “cuddle fix” from me, something I shied away from once I “grew up”, though he kept wanting it.

He raised his eyebrows while my daughter replayed their adventures the rest of us heard for the first time. Like when they hightailed to the corner waving frantically at the ice cream truck. Then when Mr Good Humor pulled away, got in my Dad’s Pontiac and chased him down a block away.

I read a lot to him this past week. Snippets of “Daniel In Love”, a compilation of love letters to his sister from her husband of 50 some years, sent from Europe during the War. And I read from my memoir. The one I dedicated to him.
I was hoping it would publish in time for him to turn the pages himself. It didn’t happen, but as I read to him in his sunroom, we had a soothing connection. I got the tightest finger squeeze and soft sounds as we went over chapters from my childhood. Family trips to his hometown by the beach, Aunt Mimi’s fried chicken and chocolate chip cookies. Carnival rides and burying Dad in the sand from his crooked toes to his skinny, sun-ripened neck. The first kitten he snuck into our home and the feline jungle that our house evolved into as Penny popped out litter after litter. Birthday parties where we’d invite Rusty, the tabby who sired all her babies, in for the good stuff—Purina from a can.
I kept thinking, don’t let my dad die on Thanksgiving. By the day before Thanksgiving he hadn’t had a bite to eat in a week and a half; only the water we swabbed inside his cheek with a tiny sponge. Still he wouldn’t close his eyes for days, even for a few seconds. He fought to be with us that Thursday, on Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. So what I will remember every year when he is not with us drizzling gravy on his turkey, is not losing my father. I will remember that he fought like I’ve never seen anyone fight in my life. He did it to stay with his family. To know this, and the experience of our last weeks together, are bliss.

What I can share about holding onto bliss, even when it doesn’t feel natural:
1.  Surround yourself with the people and things that warm you.

2. Hold onto what is good in the present moment

3. Savor what has brought you happiness and peace from the past.

4. Find comfort from human and physical touch, voices, faces.

5. Sometimes you just aren’t going to feel blissful; don’t fight that feeling but only give it so much of your time. Give the rest to what makes you happy. And remember: the only way you can know what you are feeling is not bliss, is to have known bliss.

Rachel Pappas is a mom, wife, daughter, cancer survivor, and writer. She has a website www.1UpOnCancer -where you will only find the positive. Rachel also wrote a book, Hopping Roller Coasters about her daughter and her relationship with her daughter, a story that’s not exactly ordinary though it has a universal message for any one who has loved and or needed forgiveness.