Just a little while ago, I was laying in bed unable to sleep. I picked up my phone for the nth time to see if anyone else was having this same problem (sure enough, I had company!), and when I did, my eyes fell upon the date. December 30. It's hard to believe that this year is almost over. It feels like just yesterday that I blogged "Goodbye 2012...Hello 2013." And yet, here we are - already a full 364 days under the belt. It really is amazing how fast life passes us by.
Looking at today's date got me thinking, and so here I am with my laptop and cup of tea, reflecting on the year that has passed and pondering the year before us.
2013 has been an interesting year. There have been ups and downs, but overall, this has been a year of new beginnings for me. 2009-2011 sucked. 2012 was the beginning of a new me, and I'm happy to say that the momentum picked up in 2013. I had a good feeling about 2013 right from the onset, and I am happy to report that I was not disappointed.
The year started off with the selling of my parents' house. This was a huge deal for us. This house was the first house my parents purchased when we moved to the Vancouver area. Both of my brothers left us in that house with painfully empty bedrooms full of their belongings. That house had many memories. Graduations, birthdays, anniversaries, laughs, tears, hugs, kisses - so many memories. But after Rocky's passing, those memories became unbearable, and we became prisoners in our own home. After trying on and off over a couple of years to sell the house, but not being able to, it suddenly and by complete fluke really, sold at the end of December 2012, and we left the house at the end of January. My parents and I all thought it was going to be a lot harder to leave than it was. In the end, not one of us missed that house. We were relieved to realize that the memories of our sons and brothers are not tied to any residence, but to our hearts. All of those memories are still there, but without the constant reminders of the things they left behind. I don't know if that makes sense, but it does in my head! While our new house was being constructed, we spent a couple of months living in a teeny, old 2 bedroom house on my dad's business property. Going from a house the size that we were used to into a tiny little place in an industrial neighborhood was "interesting." Waking up on Saturday morning to trucks being moved and machinery being turned on and clients right outside my bedroom door was not my cup of tea, but at the same time, it was fun. The three of us ate dinner together in one of the rooms in front of the television. We took turns using the tiny single bathroom in the house. We had big, heavy iron gates on the property that had to be opened and closed whenever we were going to leave or return outside of business hours. I realized that I am quite spoiled - often times, especially if it was raining, my dad would drag himself out of bed to open the gates for me before work in the morning. I started calling him Ram Singh - a common name for gatekeepers in Bollywood movies. Every evening, once the gates were closed, we would open the door and Magic would go bounding all over the property - sometimes chasing rabbits and other times just exploring this big new yard. All in all, it was an adventure and the couple of months we did spend there turned out to be pretty fun.
During this time, I was also introduced to CrossFit. At a friend's gentle prodding (or outright pushing), I signed up for CrossFit in North Vancouver. Never in a million years would I have thought that this gym is where I would find solace. Lifting heavy weights and competing with myself class after class was liberating and empowering. Everything about this experience was just amazing. The coaches were so encouraging and constantly motivated me to push beyond what I thought I could do, and sure enough, there were some things that I never thought I could do, but apparently could, and there were other things I never thought I'd be able to do, but over time, was able to. Truly amazing what our bodies are capable if we really put them to work.
We moved into our new house in March and what an adjustment that was. It didn't feel like home for a long time. The dog stood at the front door waiting to leave, and mom, dad and I kind of felt like doing the same. But with time, we all adjusted, and we all love the new house, the new neighborhood and the freedom to move around without fear in our home.
With this change, as well as the CrossFit, came more positive changes. All of a sudden my outlook has shifted from depressive and doomed, to something more optimistic. I'm not going to lie and say that everything is perfect now and that I am completely optimistic about the future - heck I just had a meltdown last week and just about ate all the chocolates I had bought for someone else. BUT, there has been a big change. Suddenly life doesn't feel so scary anymore. Having a marriage fall apart isn't the end of the world. Being single isn't so dreadful. In many ways, being single is better than being in a relationship! Of course in many ways being in a relationship is better than being single too, but I don't focus on those things. lol Being able to put my fears and constant thoughts of "what if" aside has enabled me to focus on the present. It has allowed me to realize what I want to do now in order to build a better tomorrow for myself. My parents and my closest girlfriends have been instrumental in helping me move forward. From constant pep talks to pushing me out the door to reverse psychology to celebrating my small victories - they have helped me to become a better person this year than I was last year.
This has been a year of firsts for me. Let's just make a list shall we?
1. Life is a play and there is a constant changing of cast and characters as the play progresses. For the first time ever, I was able to direct my own play and made some decisions on who was going to star in the show. While some new faces appeared, a few old faces were let go simply because they were not contributing enough. For the first time in a long time, I decided that I don't want negativity in my life anymore. I'm done with it. Life is too short, and I want to live whatever days I have surrounded by positivity. While it was difficult letting some people go, I know it was important for my own wellbeing, and for the first time in a long time, I am completely alright with being selfish.
2. I did the Grouse Grind! Of course I did it on a Sunday morning after fasting all day Saturday and didn't even take a water bottle with me...clearly did not think this through enough, and my time showed this, BUT I DID IT! A couple years ago, I would never have even wanted to think about it let alone attempt and complete it! This was an enormous boost of confidence for me and something that I am proud of. I have to go back and redeem myself time-wise though. There is no way it should have taken as long as it did!
3. I attracted the attention of a few gentlemen this year! hahaha! Okay, a lot of girls will say that they find this kind of thing annoying, but hey, after years and years of no attention from the opposite sex, I welcomed this attention and enjoyed every bit of it! Ahh gotta love cameramen at weddings. Definitely one of my favorite memories of 2013 - absolutely hilarious and absolutely flattering!
4. I enjoy shopping?! Who would have ever thought I'd say those words?! But things just fit so much nicer now than they did at the beginning of the year! This is a mixed blessing though. While I love shopping, my account balance does not. Sigh. And shoes - oh dear. I feel the beginnings of a major problem coming on. And I love taking pictures now too! I used to avoid cameras like the plague, but not anymore! One of my dearest cousins commented a while ago that she was happy to see more pictures of me on my Facebook profile, since I never had pictures up before. A new friend also commented when we first started talking that I had too few pictures of myself up. That's clearly changed. I'm a selfie-fanatic now. :P
5. I chopped off my hair and got a bob! Scariest decision I've made in a long time, but I did it, and I love it! And so do a bunch of other people! Yay!
6. For the first time in my entire adult life, I celebrated my birthday with some of my closest friends. I haven't ever done this before, and I'm glad I did it this year. You have to be in a happy place in order to celebrate anything, and I'm glad that I have been able to get to a place where I am comfortable celebrating me. I'm really not all that bad, so why not? Many thanks once again, to all of my friends who encouraged the idea, and who took time out of their busy schedules to make me feel special on my day. :)
Anyways, that's a bit on the firsts that I was lucky enough to experience this year. All in all, it has been a great year, and it has taught me a lot about who I am, what I want in life and also how I want to remember my brothers. I have always identified myself as the sister who lost two brothers. In recent years, I have been "Rocky's sister" before anything else. This year, I've started to realize that those brothers of mine deserve to be remembered more positively and in order for that to happen, I have to be happier, healthier and more at peace with the fact that they are in a better place. This year I was able to shut down their Facebook memorial page to everyone. I have decided that I don't need everyone to know how I feel and how much I miss them. That's between me and my heart. I contemplated removing the page altogether, but that seemed to be too much at the time, so I simply removed everyone and made it a private page. I like it better this way.
Life is a journey. There are ups and there are downs. Some days are better than others. For me this has been a year of tremendous growth. For someone else it will have been a year of complete loss. The key is to keep moving forward though, without giving up. Giving up is not an option, although sometimes it definitely feels like a good one. I have been to rock bottom. I have contemplated ending it all because I could no longer cope. But this year has been a lesson, and it has shown me that time does not always remain the same. Where there are downs, there are bound to be ups. Where there is darkness, there is bound to be light. Sometimes just staying afloat is a struggle, but other times you find yourself not only swimming but if you keep pushing, eventually the currents will help you along rather than work against you. That's been my experience. In all this rambling, my single message to anyone who may be struggling through all that life throws ones way is to keep on pushing. Don't let circumstances dominate you. Take them in stride, and move forward one day at a time. At some point, the stars will align and work with you. And the importance of positive thinking cannot be overemphasized. As hard as it is, and I know how hard it is, it is the only way to think. Because if we think any other way, we're really just digging ourselves a hole.
Anyways, that's my late-night rambling for tonight! If I go to sleep now, I can still get an hour and a half in before it's time to get up for work. :| Stay tuned over the next couple of days for my hopes for 2014. You know I'm all about sharing! If I don't get back before January 1st though, I wish everyone a very happy new year and hope that the coming year brings health and happiness to every one of you. <3
Monday, December 30, 2013
Sunday, November 17, 2013
Lucky number 13
I feel like I need to state the obvious every time I start a blog. Those who have followed my ramblings since the beginning of...well, this blog, know that the whole reason for starting it was to vent about how angry I was at life in a less "in your face" way than Facebook statuses. Life has been cruel, no doubt. The people who have known me over the years will attest to the rough rollercoaster ride that my parents and I have been on for more than a decade now. Nothing in these 11 years has hurt me deeper than the loss of my Rockstar though. As I've always said, losing Amar was hard - very hard. But in the end, Amar's passing was sudden. Rocky's was anything but. Rocky suffered for months. He battled hard to survive. He lived through indescribable pain. And in the end, he lost that battle and was taken away from us so cruelly. That loss - the loss of my baby brother, the true love of my life - left me shattered and at rock-bottom. I questioned everything that I once stood for. I questioned the faith that my parents had instilled in my brothers and I from the days that we were each born. When Rocky was battling, I prayed furiously. When Rocky was admitted to hospital and the c-word started coming up, I begged God to make the doctors wrong. When Rocky was diagnosed, I begged God to make it an "easy" cancer to fix. When they said Stage 4, I begged God to make him better. When Rocky underwent treatments, I begged God to make sure they were working. When it became evident that there were complications, I begged God to take me instead. When Rocky's health started declining, I even begged God to take him sooner than later so that he wouldn't have to suffer any more than he already had. I have struggled immensely with guilt - guilt for wanting to fast forward to see where we end up, knowing full well that fast-forwarding could mean losing Rocky sooner, guilt for asking God to end his suffering, knowing that it would mean Rocky losing his life, guilt for not being able to find some hidden cure deep in some corner of the Earth that would have miraculously eradicated disease from his body, guilt for not losing my mind or my life after his passing. I always told God I couldn't live without him, and yet here I am, still alive and kicking, and mostly healthy mentally (mostly). Does that mean that I didn't love Rocky as much as I said I did? There has been guilt for being able to do things and go places that Rocky never got a chance to. There has been guilt for living.
And with all this guilt, came hatred. I began by deciding there was no God. He could not exist. If He did exist, and He loved his children, then how could He impose such suffering on those children? How could he take away two of my parents' three children? All of our lives, my brothers and I passed the time with one another. Because the rest of our extended family was in India, we never had sleepovers with cousins. There were no weekend trips to grandma's. There were no summer reunions. It was always just the three of us - and we relied on one another.
As we got older, I used to tell my mom that I couldn't wait until we were all grown up and that it would be so much fun. I looked forward to our children getting the chance to enjoy all that we couldn't because we had no family nearby. I imagined summer barbecues with the kids playing and my brothers and I sitting around enjoying the day with our respective spouses. I imagined having my brothers' kids over to my place for sleepovers, watching movies and ordering pizzas. I imagined my own children being spoiled by their mama jis. I imagined everything that I had longed for as a child, everything that everyone else seemed to enjoy.
And there I was, on August 16, 2010, alone. Both siblings gone. All dreams shattered. How could there be a God?
They say time is the biggest healer. I didn't think so until recently. As I think back, I can't recall when I switched from not believing in the existence of God to just being mad at Him. And by mad I mean absolutely livid. Then as time went on, that "livid" turned into "mad" and "mad" turned into "whatever" and "whatever" turned into "meh" and over time "meh" has turned into "maybe."
Maybe there is a reason for all of this. Maybe there is a reason that everything worked out as it should. Maybe I am being selfish. Why do I want my brothers here? To fulfill my dreams? To outlive me? So I don't have to suffer? That's a bit harsh, no? I want my brothers here, knowing full well that they're in a better place, just so I don't have to live this life as it is. It's kind of an eye-opening epiphany that I've had over and over. I'll have it, then I'll forget, and I'll have it again. This is what Dory of Finding Nemo must have felt like. As of late though, I've been forgetting less.
It seems like just yesterday, on New Years Day 2013, I posted a status about having a really good feeling about 2013. In that post, I made reference to the story of Guru Nanak Dev Ji, the founder of Sikhism, and the time he worked in a shop and often lost himself at 13 when selling rations. The number 13 in Punjabi is pronounced "tera" which also means "yours" (ie. Yours, O God). Rather than proceeding to 14, he would simply repeat "tera, tera, tera" over and over. Sikhism's Ek Onkar is also shaped loosely as the number 13. Although I have become accustomed to being afraid of happiness, I had a very good feeling about 2013. We're 6 weeks shy of the end of the year now, and while there have been ups and downs over the year, in large part, it has been a tremendous year of growth for me. I have learned a lot about myself and have made significant strides in my mental and physical wellbeing. I have met wonderful new friends who have brought a great deal of positive energy to my life. I have made peace with the way some past relationships have gone. And I have been able to become more self-assured and have been able to eliminate a great deal of negativity from my life. While some of these changes haven't been well-received by some people (lol - they didn't make the negativity cut!), most have supported me wholeheartedly and have encouraged me to keep doing what I'm doing - in exactly those words. One of my favorite comments has been "if someone doesn't see how different you are, they must be blind." So yeah, all in all, 2013 has been a good year for me.
I've also been bombarded with people telling me that God exists and that He loves me, regardless of how I feel about Him. While I still have my questions, I am learning more and more each day that God does seem to have a plan. I have said it before, and I'll say it again: If it wasn't for Amar dying, I probably wouldn't have gotten married. If it wasn't for Rocky dying, I probably wouldn't have gotten divorced. But those boys did die, and I did get married, and in being married, I learned a lot. I learned about myself, I learned about those around me, and I learned about life, how short it is and what I want to make of it. While it hurts my heart to think that my brothers had to die for me to learn these lessons, I know that I wouldn't have learned them any other way. In that sense, I feel that living my life in a way that makes me happy is the greatest justice I can do to their memories.
My family lost Amar in 2002 - 500 people showed up to his funeral. We lost Rocky in 2010, and at his request, kept his funeral very small with only 20 people in attendance. His story however, has been told repeatedly to the congregation at the Guru Nanak Sikh Temple here in Surrey. In this way, his story has touched thousands. We lost my cousin Gagan in 2011. There were more than a 1,000 people at his funeral. Recently, our extended family lost a young man named Harry. His father told us that 500 cars showed up for a memorial car racing event in his name. The common theme here is how many lives these four young men touched in their short lives. We talked about this amongst ourselves and came to the conclusion that the shortest lives, touch the most lives. They leave the greatest impact on others. My brothers were very special, and I have no doubt in my mind that God took our finest for a reason. There is no doubt that they are in a better place and watching over my parents and I. I knew that on the days they each died. But as of late, I'm starting to be okay with it. I'm starting to come to terms with the fact that this happened, and although it hurts, it may be for the greater good. Perhaps they were needed elsewhere. Perhaps they were sent to teach me lessons that will reshape my life. Perhaps there is something greater planned for me and by taking them away, God is guiding me in the direction that I need to go.
I recently went to California and took a book for the flight. On the flight back earlier this week, I read more about how God works in ways that we may not always understand, and that there are miracles around us each day that point to His existence. The book talked about how everything happens to guide us to where we need to be, and to just trust the process. Once I finished the book mid-flight, I put it away and sat back and contemplated what I had just read, and thought about everything else that has happened over the last few years.
Through it all, it seems that Guru Nanak has played a significant role in my life. There is the "baba ji" that helped my parents and I through Rocky's passing who has devoted himself to the teachings of Guru Nanak. There is the congregation at Guru Nanak Sikh Temple that has repeatedly heard Rocky's story. There is the year 2013, with its reference to Guru Nanak, that has changed the course of my life. When we got back home, I told my mom that I wanted to start going to the gurdwara again. Of course she supported that decision - she's been waiting a while for it. So we decided that every Sunday, we'll set a time, and we will go to the gurdwara together. The first Sunday is today, and wouldn't you know it - it is Gurpurab. The day of the birth of Guru Nanak.
As I sit here now, typing this latest post, listening to celebratory fireworks being set off outside, I feel that I have just had a full-circle moment. All of a sudden, everything feels right. Everything is headed where it needs to be, in the manner it was meant to be. I will never stop missing my brothers and mourning all that could have been, but I will try not to mourn what is either. Anyone who dies never goes alone - they take a piece of their loved ones with them. Amar and Rocky each took with them a piece of my heart, and at the same time, reside forever in my own heart. We'll always be together. They are my angels, guiding me to a life that I am meant to live. A life that they would be proud of. <3 <3
And baba ji, I'm still a little bit miffed at you, but I think we might be able to be friends again. <3
And with all this guilt, came hatred. I began by deciding there was no God. He could not exist. If He did exist, and He loved his children, then how could He impose such suffering on those children? How could he take away two of my parents' three children? All of our lives, my brothers and I passed the time with one another. Because the rest of our extended family was in India, we never had sleepovers with cousins. There were no weekend trips to grandma's. There were no summer reunions. It was always just the three of us - and we relied on one another.
As we got older, I used to tell my mom that I couldn't wait until we were all grown up and that it would be so much fun. I looked forward to our children getting the chance to enjoy all that we couldn't because we had no family nearby. I imagined summer barbecues with the kids playing and my brothers and I sitting around enjoying the day with our respective spouses. I imagined having my brothers' kids over to my place for sleepovers, watching movies and ordering pizzas. I imagined my own children being spoiled by their mama jis. I imagined everything that I had longed for as a child, everything that everyone else seemed to enjoy.
And there I was, on August 16, 2010, alone. Both siblings gone. All dreams shattered. How could there be a God?
They say time is the biggest healer. I didn't think so until recently. As I think back, I can't recall when I switched from not believing in the existence of God to just being mad at Him. And by mad I mean absolutely livid. Then as time went on, that "livid" turned into "mad" and "mad" turned into "whatever" and "whatever" turned into "meh" and over time "meh" has turned into "maybe."
Maybe there is a reason for all of this. Maybe there is a reason that everything worked out as it should. Maybe I am being selfish. Why do I want my brothers here? To fulfill my dreams? To outlive me? So I don't have to suffer? That's a bit harsh, no? I want my brothers here, knowing full well that they're in a better place, just so I don't have to live this life as it is. It's kind of an eye-opening epiphany that I've had over and over. I'll have it, then I'll forget, and I'll have it again. This is what Dory of Finding Nemo must have felt like. As of late though, I've been forgetting less.
It seems like just yesterday, on New Years Day 2013, I posted a status about having a really good feeling about 2013. In that post, I made reference to the story of Guru Nanak Dev Ji, the founder of Sikhism, and the time he worked in a shop and often lost himself at 13 when selling rations. The number 13 in Punjabi is pronounced "tera" which also means "yours" (ie. Yours, O God). Rather than proceeding to 14, he would simply repeat "tera, tera, tera" over and over. Sikhism's Ek Onkar is also shaped loosely as the number 13. Although I have become accustomed to being afraid of happiness, I had a very good feeling about 2013. We're 6 weeks shy of the end of the year now, and while there have been ups and downs over the year, in large part, it has been a tremendous year of growth for me. I have learned a lot about myself and have made significant strides in my mental and physical wellbeing. I have met wonderful new friends who have brought a great deal of positive energy to my life. I have made peace with the way some past relationships have gone. And I have been able to become more self-assured and have been able to eliminate a great deal of negativity from my life. While some of these changes haven't been well-received by some people (lol - they didn't make the negativity cut!), most have supported me wholeheartedly and have encouraged me to keep doing what I'm doing - in exactly those words. One of my favorite comments has been "if someone doesn't see how different you are, they must be blind." So yeah, all in all, 2013 has been a good year for me.
I've also been bombarded with people telling me that God exists and that He loves me, regardless of how I feel about Him. While I still have my questions, I am learning more and more each day that God does seem to have a plan. I have said it before, and I'll say it again: If it wasn't for Amar dying, I probably wouldn't have gotten married. If it wasn't for Rocky dying, I probably wouldn't have gotten divorced. But those boys did die, and I did get married, and in being married, I learned a lot. I learned about myself, I learned about those around me, and I learned about life, how short it is and what I want to make of it. While it hurts my heart to think that my brothers had to die for me to learn these lessons, I know that I wouldn't have learned them any other way. In that sense, I feel that living my life in a way that makes me happy is the greatest justice I can do to their memories.
My family lost Amar in 2002 - 500 people showed up to his funeral. We lost Rocky in 2010, and at his request, kept his funeral very small with only 20 people in attendance. His story however, has been told repeatedly to the congregation at the Guru Nanak Sikh Temple here in Surrey. In this way, his story has touched thousands. We lost my cousin Gagan in 2011. There were more than a 1,000 people at his funeral. Recently, our extended family lost a young man named Harry. His father told us that 500 cars showed up for a memorial car racing event in his name. The common theme here is how many lives these four young men touched in their short lives. We talked about this amongst ourselves and came to the conclusion that the shortest lives, touch the most lives. They leave the greatest impact on others. My brothers were very special, and I have no doubt in my mind that God took our finest for a reason. There is no doubt that they are in a better place and watching over my parents and I. I knew that on the days they each died. But as of late, I'm starting to be okay with it. I'm starting to come to terms with the fact that this happened, and although it hurts, it may be for the greater good. Perhaps they were needed elsewhere. Perhaps they were sent to teach me lessons that will reshape my life. Perhaps there is something greater planned for me and by taking them away, God is guiding me in the direction that I need to go.
I recently went to California and took a book for the flight. On the flight back earlier this week, I read more about how God works in ways that we may not always understand, and that there are miracles around us each day that point to His existence. The book talked about how everything happens to guide us to where we need to be, and to just trust the process. Once I finished the book mid-flight, I put it away and sat back and contemplated what I had just read, and thought about everything else that has happened over the last few years.
Through it all, it seems that Guru Nanak has played a significant role in my life. There is the "baba ji" that helped my parents and I through Rocky's passing who has devoted himself to the teachings of Guru Nanak. There is the congregation at Guru Nanak Sikh Temple that has repeatedly heard Rocky's story. There is the year 2013, with its reference to Guru Nanak, that has changed the course of my life. When we got back home, I told my mom that I wanted to start going to the gurdwara again. Of course she supported that decision - she's been waiting a while for it. So we decided that every Sunday, we'll set a time, and we will go to the gurdwara together. The first Sunday is today, and wouldn't you know it - it is Gurpurab. The day of the birth of Guru Nanak.
As I sit here now, typing this latest post, listening to celebratory fireworks being set off outside, I feel that I have just had a full-circle moment. All of a sudden, everything feels right. Everything is headed where it needs to be, in the manner it was meant to be. I will never stop missing my brothers and mourning all that could have been, but I will try not to mourn what is either. Anyone who dies never goes alone - they take a piece of their loved ones with them. Amar and Rocky each took with them a piece of my heart, and at the same time, reside forever in my own heart. We'll always be together. They are my angels, guiding me to a life that I am meant to live. A life that they would be proud of. <3 <3
And baba ji, I'm still a little bit miffed at you, but I think we might be able to be friends again. <3
Monday, July 29, 2013
Hum Dum Dee Dum
Well howdy everyone! It's been a while since I've posted, I think (not including the Eat Pray Love post that was 10 months late...oopsies!). I figure it's time for a good ramble. :)
So what have I been up to? I know I mentioned my personal "Happiness Project" a few posts ago, and I've been trying to stick to that as best as I can. I still have my bad days, and my really bad days, but they continue to get farther and farther apart, which is good - of course it's good. But I still, for whatever reason, cannot help but feel guilty about it. I don't know what it is. I've had this conversation with my doctor a few times in the recent past few weeks:
Doctor: Do you feel guilty about Rocky's passing?
Me: Yes.
Doctor: Do you know that there was nothing I could have done?
Me: Yes.
Doctor: If Rocky was sitting here right now, what do you think he would say to you?
Me: Move on.
In my heart of hearts, I know he's in a better place. I really do. But that being said, I just can't forget. And I think it's all of those memories that I have a hard time moving forward from. Watching my brother lay in that hospital bed, telling me that he wanted a small funeral. Thinking back to how he must have been imagining his own funeral based on his one and only funeral experience being that of our brother in 2002. Having a conversation about him about a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate - doctors wanted us to talk to him about signing one, or given that he was too sedated at times to make a decision, they wanted us to sign one...talk about an impossible decision), and having him tell me "Re..susc..i..tate...my body may be ready to go, but my mind isn't." Having our last conversations with him, saying our goodbyes, watching him hug and kiss my parents.
I CANNOT GET OVER IT.
Yes, I know he's in a better place now, but the reality is that he wasn't ready to go to that place. That is something I struggle with. I also know I give myself too much power. If trained oncologists weren't able to save him, then who the heck am I? But in this age of Internet, I keep feeling that I put too much trust in doctors and conventional medicine, without doing enough research on alternatives that might have been available. I wasted more time in prognosis than I did on cures. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I feel as if I missed some groundbreaking natural medicine that would have saved him. I apologized to Rocky for it late one night during the last week of his life. It was 2am and I had gotten mom to go lie down for a bit while I sat next to Rocky (we took shifts around the clock to sit with him). It was around 2am, and as he lay there, I felt him stir, so I asked him whether he knew how much I loved him. He said he did, and that he loved us all. And then I apologized. He shook his head and said "don't do that to yourself." When Dr. Barrio came to see hiim the Friday before he passed away, I had a minor meltdown at his bedside, and despite the fact that he could no longer speak or open his eyes, he lifted his arm and moaned loudly - a clear objection to what he was hearing.
I was his voice. No one understood him like I did. During that last week when he couldn't speak for himself, I spoke for him, I understood for him, I demanded for him. Rocky was my everything, and to this day, almost three years later, I have a very difficult time coming to terms with the fact that he's no longer here.
Amar died just over 11 years ago, and while his passing seems like an eternity ago on some days and just yesterday on others, Rocky's passing always feels like an eternity ago. It's been so long since I've talked to him, since I've hugged him, since I've held his hands, since I've run my hand through his ringletty hair. His hair. He always had beautiful hair, but after chemo, it came back in ringlets. I kept asking him if I could feel it. He kept saying no. I felt it after he passed away, when he could no longer stop me. As odd as it may sound, when I think about it, I can still feel those ringlets on the palm of my hand.
One day a couple of years ago, I got together with a few girlfriends to discuss fundraising ideas. A couple of my friends brought their friends. We sat around talking and smiling. I didn't shed any tears that day, although it had been a mere months since Rocky's passing. At home things were a mess, but at this get together, I was good. As we were in the middle of our meals, one of my friends' friends, a very religious girl, turned to me and said that she had to tell me something. I looked at her, and she said "Rocky's here. And he wants me to tell you to get your shit together." I was dumbfounded...and then I lost it. Poor Rocky probably shook his head, said "stupid lady" and left. But the more I think about it, the more I feel like he really probably was there and probably did want that message conveyed. Things were pretty bad at home, and I was a mess and did indeed need to get my shit together...
So after very difficult, life altering decisions, I finally managed to get onto the path towards "getting better." It's been a long time coming. I never understood what people meant when they said that I had to care for myself before I could care for my parents. I didn't understand why it was necessary for me to be selfish and put my needs first. I've always assumed the caretaker role. I've always been in control. And all of a sudden, things were so far out of my control that I had no idea how to get back on track...and then one day, it just clicked.
I started with a BeachBody cleanse. I came across a sponsored ad on FB for Leslie Moodie Fitness. I clicked on the ad and saw that we had a mutual friend who is a doctor, and so immediately felt that I could trust her. I followed her and noted that she was raving about a cleanse that she was doing and asked her for details. After talking to her, I signed up. It was a tough, but very rewarding 21 days. For the first time, I was able to realize just how wrong I was treating my body. I ate right, and felt amazing! Once the cleanse was up, I joined CrossFit, only because a friend of mine literally sat at my desk at work until I signed up for the Groupon that was being offered.
I am a self-proclaimed quitter. I don't have the ability to stick to anything, and so when I joined CrossFit a few months ago, I chose not to tell anyone. Afterall, I was doing it for myself and not anyone else. No one needed to know. That and there's no pressure to keep going if no one knows what you're doing. But word got out at work, and then I liked a video of myself that was posted, and word got out on Facebook as well. Oops. So now, because I have people coming up to me on a near-daily basis at work asking how CrossFit is going, I have to keep going. The need to please is a huge burden to carry!
So I've been CrossFitting regularly for about 6 weeks now and am seeing enormous changes in strength. People are noticing the difference and commenting almost every day. I looked back on pictures and holy moly I can't believe just how big I had gotten. Emphasis on holy moly. I'm literally shaking my head thinking back to that comparison. Maybe one day I'll post it...or maybe not. :P :D
For the first time ever though, I feel as if I might just be able to do this! I may be able to end up fit and healthy. I may be smaller than I've ever been before. I may learn to love myself. I am starting to more and more each day, which I guess is a step in the right direction.
I have amazing support though, which always makes moving forward easier. I have always said that I have amazing friends - and I stand by that statement. My friends are in large part, the reason that I'm still here today. There were days in the last few years when I didn't think I could do it anymore, but these wonderful people carried me through, and here I am...still here. I believe I have also mentioned how I keep crossing paths with people who motivate, inspire and encourage me to be a better person. Often completely unlikely sources - ahem, San Fran bazillionaire entrepreneur? Yeah, no idea! - but somehow, they enter, teach and exit...or sometimes stay (not the bazillionaire though, sadly...he exited...lol). And most recently, I've crossed paths with Leslie, who got me on the path to healthy eating, and then the Makers Body CrossFit team of North Vancouver. They're so supportive and passionate about healthy living that it really does rub off on people like me. I find myself WANTING to go sweat like a pig and make a fool of myself doing exercises that I can't do. I don't even want to know what I look like doing a burpee...lol...but these people are always so supportive - come on Randeep, 5 more...4, 3, 2, 1, atta girl! Just awesome.
So that's where I am. Trying to keep the CrossFit thing consistent. Trying to get my diet on track (food is a necessity, not a luxury...a mantra I'm trying to believe!). Trying to just be a better person, inside and out. I did manage to do the Grouse Grind for the first time everrrrr a few weeks ago! Does anyone remember what I looked like even a year ago? The GG was definitely not an option! But it is now, and I did it! I didn't do it as fast as I thought I would, but I..did..it. That alone is a huge accomplishment and one that I'm proud of. I'll have to go again once before the end of the season to see how my time changes from the first go. Planning on doing the 5K Colour Run and the 5K Terry Fox Run in September, and the 10K Sun Run in April, as well. I have a long way to go, but I've come a long way already.
For the first time in a very long time, I am happy with the direction in which my life is going, and despite my feelings of despair and sadness, I know my kid brothers are looking down proudly as well. And that makes me happy...in a sad kind of way.
Love you boys. Now and always. <3 <3
So what have I been up to? I know I mentioned my personal "Happiness Project" a few posts ago, and I've been trying to stick to that as best as I can. I still have my bad days, and my really bad days, but they continue to get farther and farther apart, which is good - of course it's good. But I still, for whatever reason, cannot help but feel guilty about it. I don't know what it is. I've had this conversation with my doctor a few times in the recent past few weeks:
Doctor: Do you feel guilty about Rocky's passing?
Me: Yes.
Doctor: Do you know that there was nothing I could have done?
Me: Yes.
Doctor: If Rocky was sitting here right now, what do you think he would say to you?
Me: Move on.
In my heart of hearts, I know he's in a better place. I really do. But that being said, I just can't forget. And I think it's all of those memories that I have a hard time moving forward from. Watching my brother lay in that hospital bed, telling me that he wanted a small funeral. Thinking back to how he must have been imagining his own funeral based on his one and only funeral experience being that of our brother in 2002. Having a conversation about him about a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate - doctors wanted us to talk to him about signing one, or given that he was too sedated at times to make a decision, they wanted us to sign one...talk about an impossible decision), and having him tell me "Re..susc..i..tate...my body may be ready to go, but my mind isn't." Having our last conversations with him, saying our goodbyes, watching him hug and kiss my parents.
I CANNOT GET OVER IT.
Yes, I know he's in a better place now, but the reality is that he wasn't ready to go to that place. That is something I struggle with. I also know I give myself too much power. If trained oncologists weren't able to save him, then who the heck am I? But in this age of Internet, I keep feeling that I put too much trust in doctors and conventional medicine, without doing enough research on alternatives that might have been available. I wasted more time in prognosis than I did on cures. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I feel as if I missed some groundbreaking natural medicine that would have saved him. I apologized to Rocky for it late one night during the last week of his life. It was 2am and I had gotten mom to go lie down for a bit while I sat next to Rocky (we took shifts around the clock to sit with him). It was around 2am, and as he lay there, I felt him stir, so I asked him whether he knew how much I loved him. He said he did, and that he loved us all. And then I apologized. He shook his head and said "don't do that to yourself." When Dr. Barrio came to see hiim the Friday before he passed away, I had a minor meltdown at his bedside, and despite the fact that he could no longer speak or open his eyes, he lifted his arm and moaned loudly - a clear objection to what he was hearing.
I was his voice. No one understood him like I did. During that last week when he couldn't speak for himself, I spoke for him, I understood for him, I demanded for him. Rocky was my everything, and to this day, almost three years later, I have a very difficult time coming to terms with the fact that he's no longer here.
Amar died just over 11 years ago, and while his passing seems like an eternity ago on some days and just yesterday on others, Rocky's passing always feels like an eternity ago. It's been so long since I've talked to him, since I've hugged him, since I've held his hands, since I've run my hand through his ringletty hair. His hair. He always had beautiful hair, but after chemo, it came back in ringlets. I kept asking him if I could feel it. He kept saying no. I felt it after he passed away, when he could no longer stop me. As odd as it may sound, when I think about it, I can still feel those ringlets on the palm of my hand.
One day a couple of years ago, I got together with a few girlfriends to discuss fundraising ideas. A couple of my friends brought their friends. We sat around talking and smiling. I didn't shed any tears that day, although it had been a mere months since Rocky's passing. At home things were a mess, but at this get together, I was good. As we were in the middle of our meals, one of my friends' friends, a very religious girl, turned to me and said that she had to tell me something. I looked at her, and she said "Rocky's here. And he wants me to tell you to get your shit together." I was dumbfounded...and then I lost it. Poor Rocky probably shook his head, said "stupid lady" and left. But the more I think about it, the more I feel like he really probably was there and probably did want that message conveyed. Things were pretty bad at home, and I was a mess and did indeed need to get my shit together...
So after very difficult, life altering decisions, I finally managed to get onto the path towards "getting better." It's been a long time coming. I never understood what people meant when they said that I had to care for myself before I could care for my parents. I didn't understand why it was necessary for me to be selfish and put my needs first. I've always assumed the caretaker role. I've always been in control. And all of a sudden, things were so far out of my control that I had no idea how to get back on track...and then one day, it just clicked.
I started with a BeachBody cleanse. I came across a sponsored ad on FB for Leslie Moodie Fitness. I clicked on the ad and saw that we had a mutual friend who is a doctor, and so immediately felt that I could trust her. I followed her and noted that she was raving about a cleanse that she was doing and asked her for details. After talking to her, I signed up. It was a tough, but very rewarding 21 days. For the first time, I was able to realize just how wrong I was treating my body. I ate right, and felt amazing! Once the cleanse was up, I joined CrossFit, only because a friend of mine literally sat at my desk at work until I signed up for the Groupon that was being offered.
I am a self-proclaimed quitter. I don't have the ability to stick to anything, and so when I joined CrossFit a few months ago, I chose not to tell anyone. Afterall, I was doing it for myself and not anyone else. No one needed to know. That and there's no pressure to keep going if no one knows what you're doing. But word got out at work, and then I liked a video of myself that was posted, and word got out on Facebook as well. Oops. So now, because I have people coming up to me on a near-daily basis at work asking how CrossFit is going, I have to keep going. The need to please is a huge burden to carry!
So I've been CrossFitting regularly for about 6 weeks now and am seeing enormous changes in strength. People are noticing the difference and commenting almost every day. I looked back on pictures and holy moly I can't believe just how big I had gotten. Emphasis on holy moly. I'm literally shaking my head thinking back to that comparison. Maybe one day I'll post it...or maybe not. :P :D
For the first time ever though, I feel as if I might just be able to do this! I may be able to end up fit and healthy. I may be smaller than I've ever been before. I may learn to love myself. I am starting to more and more each day, which I guess is a step in the right direction.
I have amazing support though, which always makes moving forward easier. I have always said that I have amazing friends - and I stand by that statement. My friends are in large part, the reason that I'm still here today. There were days in the last few years when I didn't think I could do it anymore, but these wonderful people carried me through, and here I am...still here. I believe I have also mentioned how I keep crossing paths with people who motivate, inspire and encourage me to be a better person. Often completely unlikely sources - ahem, San Fran bazillionaire entrepreneur? Yeah, no idea! - but somehow, they enter, teach and exit...or sometimes stay (not the bazillionaire though, sadly...he exited...lol). And most recently, I've crossed paths with Leslie, who got me on the path to healthy eating, and then the Makers Body CrossFit team of North Vancouver. They're so supportive and passionate about healthy living that it really does rub off on people like me. I find myself WANTING to go sweat like a pig and make a fool of myself doing exercises that I can't do. I don't even want to know what I look like doing a burpee...lol...but these people are always so supportive - come on Randeep, 5 more...4, 3, 2, 1, atta girl! Just awesome.
So that's where I am. Trying to keep the CrossFit thing consistent. Trying to get my diet on track (food is a necessity, not a luxury...a mantra I'm trying to believe!). Trying to just be a better person, inside and out. I did manage to do the Grouse Grind for the first time everrrrr a few weeks ago! Does anyone remember what I looked like even a year ago? The GG was definitely not an option! But it is now, and I did it! I didn't do it as fast as I thought I would, but I..did..it. That alone is a huge accomplishment and one that I'm proud of. I'll have to go again once before the end of the season to see how my time changes from the first go. Planning on doing the 5K Colour Run and the 5K Terry Fox Run in September, and the 10K Sun Run in April, as well. I have a long way to go, but I've come a long way already.
For the first time in a very long time, I am happy with the direction in which my life is going, and despite my feelings of despair and sadness, I know my kid brothers are looking down proudly as well. And that makes me happy...in a sad kind of way.
Love you boys. Now and always. <3 <3
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Eat, definitely. Pray, possibly. Love, maybe.
Okay I just realized that this post from November didn't actually get posted. A bit about my Indian vacay. I'll have to read what I wrote and post an update as to where things stand! I don't even know if I finished this post, but this many months later it seems pointless to go back and try doing so, so here it is... :)
Well, my much-anticipated 6 week vacation has come and gone in what seems to be just the blink of an eye. It's interesting how one can look forward to something for months, only for it to be over too quickly. That's how I feel right now about my trip to India. I booked this trip back in February, and at that time, thought 7 months would never pass. Well they did, and my 6 week leave from work began. And now, here I am with the vacation behind me, and the office back in sight. Those who know me will know that I have a tendency to analyze everything - and this vacation is no different.
Many of you know by now that the last decade has not been an easy one. From losing my first brother in June 2002, through to ending my relationship with CJ in 2012, during which period I also lost my beloved Rockstar, the last decade has brought many challenges my way. In addition to these challenges, other more minor issues stood in the way of leaving town for any extended period of time. Things settled down this year though, and so a vacation was finally on the cards.
There are many destinations around the world that I wish to travel to. But when it came to booking this particular vacation, it was easy to pick where I wanted to start my travel escapades - India. What better place to start than where it all began? The last time I travelled to India, I was 7 years old. We have a lot of family out there as well, and seeing that I was planning on taking my mom with me, it only made sense to go to the motherland. Along with taking a vacation from my Bollywood-esque life, I was hoping that the time away would allow me to sort my head out - determine, prioritize and plan for what is important to me at this point in my life. Not dwell on what has happened in the past, not worry about things I cannot control in the future, but focus on the present. There is little doubt that since my youngest brother's passing in 2010, I've been a mess. After almost two years of running around in circles, it was finally time to "move on." I finally realized that at the age of 32, I am far too young to throw in the towel and become victim to circumstances. I'm all too aware that life is completely unpredictable. If I am meant to die tomorrow, nothing is going to stop that from happening. But I finally decided that I am not about to sit around living my life as if I'm going to die tomorrow. It would be different if I was doing exciting things to make my "last days" enjoyable - but I wasn't. I was literally sitting around having life pass me by because I didn't know what else to do. Something changed though, and I decided that I want to go about my life as if I'm going to live tomorrow. Like I said, I know that life is unpredictable, but if all goes as it's supposed to, I have a few years left on this Earth, so I might as well make something of those years. I have a pretty good idea of the circumstances that caused this epiphany, but that's another blog altogether. In short, I finally decided that it was time to take control of my life and live it the way I see fit, not they way anyone else sees fit. After months and months and months of doctors, colleagues, friends, family, supervisors (I'm not kidding when I say I was a mess) telling me that I deserved to be happy, I finally realized that they were right. I do deserve to be happy! Once I came to this realization however, I was faced with a new problem - how?
So the plan, as I mentioned somewhere in that last paragraph, was to go on vacation and come back a bit more relaxed, with a bit more peace of mind and a clearer picture of where I want to go and how I intended to get there.
Our vacation took us first to Delhi, from where we went on a 13 day tour through Rajasthan, Uttar Pradesh, and Madhya Pradesh. We had an opportunity to see Delhi, Jaipur, Bharatpur, Agra, Orchha, Khajuraho and Varanasi before returning to Delhi and then heading to Punjab. Those first 15 days made no difference to my peace of mind plans. If anything, they wore me out completely! It was HOT and there was a lot to see! Around the end of the tour, I started to panic. The thought of returning to my life without gaining any sense of self scared me. That pre-vacation life is one that I didn't want to fall back into. But then I calmed myself down by reminding myself that I still had 4 weeks to go.
My cousin had come to Delhi when we first arrived and provided me with a cell phone for "our" convenience. It turns out that my massi jis (mom's sisters) and cousins had a hard time dealing with the fact that we were in India but still out of their reach. They made themselves feel better by calling us every..single..evening. It turns out the cell phone was also for their convenience! We were in touch with my cousins and my dad almost everyday, and each day, we were told that everything was fine and were asked how many days left until we returned to Delhi and moved on to Punjab to see them. It wasn't until one of my Californian cousins called and slipped up that we found out that my dada ji (dad's father), had had a stroke while we were touring. No one had wanted to tell us while we were on the tour, since it would be difficult arranging transportation back to Punjab - and because my dad didn't want to cause us stress while on vacation. Plus papa ji was recovering well and improving each day. Luckily, the slip came in the last few days of the tour and we were soon on our way to Punjab where we could see my papa ji and visit with the rest of our family.
My 86 year old papa ji is a very highly educated man, who spent his entire life learning and teaching. He and my grandmother lived in Chandigarh until my grandmother's passing in March. From Chandigarh, he was moved to rural Punjab to be closer to family and so that family could care for him. The last time I saw papa ji was in 2004, and at that time, he was completely self sufficient and healthy. When I saw him for the first time on this trip, I have to admit that I wanted to cry. In a relatively short time, my papa ji has become a frail man with signs of dementia. On the day that we arrived, I went into his room to see him, and he looked at me with a smile on his face, but no clue as to who I was. My cousin asked him if he recognized me. He said no. So after some gentle prodding, my cousin finally said "tuhade Shinde di Rupi ah" (your Shinda's (dad's nickname) Rupi). This is when he looked at me and started to cry. The same scenario repeated when my mom came into the room. This was the first time he had seen my mom and I since Rocky's passing.
I know now without a shadow of a doubt that I get my stubborn personality from my dad's side of the family, because after realizing it was us, this 86 year old man who couldn't walk, eat or remember for that matter, decided that he wanted to sit in the living room with us and everyone else. So my cousins carried him to the living room, and this is when we really realized how weak he had become compounded by the stroke. Luckily, the stroke wasn't as serious as it could have been, and so the situation was still better than it could have been.
Over the next week or so, papa ji made significant improvements in his strength, and has actually gone from only being able to have small amounts of oatmeal fed to him to being able to eat saag and makki di roti on his own. The effects of dementia are obvious though at times, which makes communication with him somewhat difficult.
The village where we were staying is called Talwandi Jattan, in the district of Hoshiarpur. This is where the sister just older than my mom resides. This village is known for its Sikh Temple - Rampur Khera Sahib. Each October, this temple hosts an 8 consecutive day religious program, called a samagam, during which people from near and far descend on the village to take part. One day, my massi ji and mom decided to go to the evening program. We liked keeping papa ji informed of what was going on around him so that he wouldn't feel neglected or unsure of what was happening, so my mom told papa ji that she and massi ji were going to the gurudwara. About an hour after they left, I went into papa ji's room to check on him and he asked me "you're not going?" Papa ji communicates with me exclusively in English. Sometimes I wonder if he thinks I don't know how to speak Punjabi, being from Canada and all, so I'll start talking him in Punjabi. But nope, he will always reply in English. Anyways, I told him that I wasn't going and that mom and massi ji had gone. He asked "why?" I told him about how I don't know what to believe and that I'm not sure if God really even exists, or maybe I think He does exist, but I'm mad at Him. He listened to this little explanation, and then pretty much laughed at me. I think a part of him may have been ashamed that I was his blood. lol This is when I believe I experienced the climax of my trip. In the conversation that followed, my grandfather told me that without belief, there is nothing. Without belief, we are losers. He explained that there are many, many examples of individuals in history who had nothing, and yet had everything simply because of their belief. He asked why I thought that was. He pointed out that my parents attend religious functions despite all that has happened to them, and asked if I though they were doing it for nothing. I told him that I wasn't sure and that I thought they were crazy. He replied "they're not crazy. They're not crazy. It is you who is misguided." For some reason, it is the "it is you who is misguided" line that has stuck out in my mind and has forced me to think hard about things. In this short conversation, my ailing 86 year old grandfather told me that giving up on belief and hope is cowardice. He told me that life is a journey, and sometimes a very difficult one, but the only way to succeed and come out a winner is to keep faith, no matter what. He encouraged me to believe, to not lose hope and to rise to life's challenges and face my fears rather than letting them consume me. He repeated over and over that "the truth is there." Like any Sikh, my papa ji's belief is that everything that happens is God's will, and that it is up to us to have complete faith that whatever He does is for the best. He acknowledged that this is no easy task. But he also said that this faith is something that we have to work hard to attain - it is not a matter of one or two days. It is a "tapasya" - a journey, and as long as I embarked on that journey honestly and earnestly, I would always be successful.
My parents raised my brothers and I in a household that believed strongly in the Sikh religion. My mom was a stay-at-home mom during the time we lived in Sparwood, and she used this time to teach us about our religion. I know that our Guru tells us that it is best to not get caught up in worldly possessions and relationships, because doing so will only bring us pain. The Guru tells us that our one true relationship is with God, and only this relationship will bring us peace, rather than despair. It is easy to believe this when things are going well, because we have no real reason to question anything. But when things turn for the worst, we end up questioning everything. In my case, I started by questioning the existence of God, but couldn't actually believe that He didn't exist, so instead I just became angry with Him. I know that it's a stupid way to go - really, how is my not going to the temple having any impact on Him? I doubt He's sitting up there overly stressed about the matter. But it's how I dealt with things. Recently though, things started to change. It's not that I stopped being angry, but I think at some point, I just gave up on trying to hate Him.
Well, my much-anticipated 6 week vacation has come and gone in what seems to be just the blink of an eye. It's interesting how one can look forward to something for months, only for it to be over too quickly. That's how I feel right now about my trip to India. I booked this trip back in February, and at that time, thought 7 months would never pass. Well they did, and my 6 week leave from work began. And now, here I am with the vacation behind me, and the office back in sight. Those who know me will know that I have a tendency to analyze everything - and this vacation is no different.
Many of you know by now that the last decade has not been an easy one. From losing my first brother in June 2002, through to ending my relationship with CJ in 2012, during which period I also lost my beloved Rockstar, the last decade has brought many challenges my way. In addition to these challenges, other more minor issues stood in the way of leaving town for any extended period of time. Things settled down this year though, and so a vacation was finally on the cards.
There are many destinations around the world that I wish to travel to. But when it came to booking this particular vacation, it was easy to pick where I wanted to start my travel escapades - India. What better place to start than where it all began? The last time I travelled to India, I was 7 years old. We have a lot of family out there as well, and seeing that I was planning on taking my mom with me, it only made sense to go to the motherland. Along with taking a vacation from my Bollywood-esque life, I was hoping that the time away would allow me to sort my head out - determine, prioritize and plan for what is important to me at this point in my life. Not dwell on what has happened in the past, not worry about things I cannot control in the future, but focus on the present. There is little doubt that since my youngest brother's passing in 2010, I've been a mess. After almost two years of running around in circles, it was finally time to "move on." I finally realized that at the age of 32, I am far too young to throw in the towel and become victim to circumstances. I'm all too aware that life is completely unpredictable. If I am meant to die tomorrow, nothing is going to stop that from happening. But I finally decided that I am not about to sit around living my life as if I'm going to die tomorrow. It would be different if I was doing exciting things to make my "last days" enjoyable - but I wasn't. I was literally sitting around having life pass me by because I didn't know what else to do. Something changed though, and I decided that I want to go about my life as if I'm going to live tomorrow. Like I said, I know that life is unpredictable, but if all goes as it's supposed to, I have a few years left on this Earth, so I might as well make something of those years. I have a pretty good idea of the circumstances that caused this epiphany, but that's another blog altogether. In short, I finally decided that it was time to take control of my life and live it the way I see fit, not they way anyone else sees fit. After months and months and months of doctors, colleagues, friends, family, supervisors (I'm not kidding when I say I was a mess) telling me that I deserved to be happy, I finally realized that they were right. I do deserve to be happy! Once I came to this realization however, I was faced with a new problem - how?
So the plan, as I mentioned somewhere in that last paragraph, was to go on vacation and come back a bit more relaxed, with a bit more peace of mind and a clearer picture of where I want to go and how I intended to get there.
Our vacation took us first to Delhi, from where we went on a 13 day tour through Rajasthan, Uttar Pradesh, and Madhya Pradesh. We had an opportunity to see Delhi, Jaipur, Bharatpur, Agra, Orchha, Khajuraho and Varanasi before returning to Delhi and then heading to Punjab. Those first 15 days made no difference to my peace of mind plans. If anything, they wore me out completely! It was HOT and there was a lot to see! Around the end of the tour, I started to panic. The thought of returning to my life without gaining any sense of self scared me. That pre-vacation life is one that I didn't want to fall back into. But then I calmed myself down by reminding myself that I still had 4 weeks to go.
My cousin had come to Delhi when we first arrived and provided me with a cell phone for "our" convenience. It turns out that my massi jis (mom's sisters) and cousins had a hard time dealing with the fact that we were in India but still out of their reach. They made themselves feel better by calling us every..single..evening. It turns out the cell phone was also for their convenience! We were in touch with my cousins and my dad almost everyday, and each day, we were told that everything was fine and were asked how many days left until we returned to Delhi and moved on to Punjab to see them. It wasn't until one of my Californian cousins called and slipped up that we found out that my dada ji (dad's father), had had a stroke while we were touring. No one had wanted to tell us while we were on the tour, since it would be difficult arranging transportation back to Punjab - and because my dad didn't want to cause us stress while on vacation. Plus papa ji was recovering well and improving each day. Luckily, the slip came in the last few days of the tour and we were soon on our way to Punjab where we could see my papa ji and visit with the rest of our family.
My 86 year old papa ji is a very highly educated man, who spent his entire life learning and teaching. He and my grandmother lived in Chandigarh until my grandmother's passing in March. From Chandigarh, he was moved to rural Punjab to be closer to family and so that family could care for him. The last time I saw papa ji was in 2004, and at that time, he was completely self sufficient and healthy. When I saw him for the first time on this trip, I have to admit that I wanted to cry. In a relatively short time, my papa ji has become a frail man with signs of dementia. On the day that we arrived, I went into his room to see him, and he looked at me with a smile on his face, but no clue as to who I was. My cousin asked him if he recognized me. He said no. So after some gentle prodding, my cousin finally said "tuhade Shinde di Rupi ah" (your Shinda's (dad's nickname) Rupi). This is when he looked at me and started to cry. The same scenario repeated when my mom came into the room. This was the first time he had seen my mom and I since Rocky's passing.
I know now without a shadow of a doubt that I get my stubborn personality from my dad's side of the family, because after realizing it was us, this 86 year old man who couldn't walk, eat or remember for that matter, decided that he wanted to sit in the living room with us and everyone else. So my cousins carried him to the living room, and this is when we really realized how weak he had become compounded by the stroke. Luckily, the stroke wasn't as serious as it could have been, and so the situation was still better than it could have been.
Over the next week or so, papa ji made significant improvements in his strength, and has actually gone from only being able to have small amounts of oatmeal fed to him to being able to eat saag and makki di roti on his own. The effects of dementia are obvious though at times, which makes communication with him somewhat difficult.
The village where we were staying is called Talwandi Jattan, in the district of Hoshiarpur. This is where the sister just older than my mom resides. This village is known for its Sikh Temple - Rampur Khera Sahib. Each October, this temple hosts an 8 consecutive day religious program, called a samagam, during which people from near and far descend on the village to take part. One day, my massi ji and mom decided to go to the evening program. We liked keeping papa ji informed of what was going on around him so that he wouldn't feel neglected or unsure of what was happening, so my mom told papa ji that she and massi ji were going to the gurudwara. About an hour after they left, I went into papa ji's room to check on him and he asked me "you're not going?" Papa ji communicates with me exclusively in English. Sometimes I wonder if he thinks I don't know how to speak Punjabi, being from Canada and all, so I'll start talking him in Punjabi. But nope, he will always reply in English. Anyways, I told him that I wasn't going and that mom and massi ji had gone. He asked "why?" I told him about how I don't know what to believe and that I'm not sure if God really even exists, or maybe I think He does exist, but I'm mad at Him. He listened to this little explanation, and then pretty much laughed at me. I think a part of him may have been ashamed that I was his blood. lol This is when I believe I experienced the climax of my trip. In the conversation that followed, my grandfather told me that without belief, there is nothing. Without belief, we are losers. He explained that there are many, many examples of individuals in history who had nothing, and yet had everything simply because of their belief. He asked why I thought that was. He pointed out that my parents attend religious functions despite all that has happened to them, and asked if I though they were doing it for nothing. I told him that I wasn't sure and that I thought they were crazy. He replied "they're not crazy. They're not crazy. It is you who is misguided." For some reason, it is the "it is you who is misguided" line that has stuck out in my mind and has forced me to think hard about things. In this short conversation, my ailing 86 year old grandfather told me that giving up on belief and hope is cowardice. He told me that life is a journey, and sometimes a very difficult one, but the only way to succeed and come out a winner is to keep faith, no matter what. He encouraged me to believe, to not lose hope and to rise to life's challenges and face my fears rather than letting them consume me. He repeated over and over that "the truth is there." Like any Sikh, my papa ji's belief is that everything that happens is God's will, and that it is up to us to have complete faith that whatever He does is for the best. He acknowledged that this is no easy task. But he also said that this faith is something that we have to work hard to attain - it is not a matter of one or two days. It is a "tapasya" - a journey, and as long as I embarked on that journey honestly and earnestly, I would always be successful.
My parents raised my brothers and I in a household that believed strongly in the Sikh religion. My mom was a stay-at-home mom during the time we lived in Sparwood, and she used this time to teach us about our religion. I know that our Guru tells us that it is best to not get caught up in worldly possessions and relationships, because doing so will only bring us pain. The Guru tells us that our one true relationship is with God, and only this relationship will bring us peace, rather than despair. It is easy to believe this when things are going well, because we have no real reason to question anything. But when things turn for the worst, we end up questioning everything. In my case, I started by questioning the existence of God, but couldn't actually believe that He didn't exist, so instead I just became angry with Him. I know that it's a stupid way to go - really, how is my not going to the temple having any impact on Him? I doubt He's sitting up there overly stressed about the matter. But it's how I dealt with things. Recently though, things started to change. It's not that I stopped being angry, but I think at some point, I just gave up on trying to hate Him.
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Blessings
In previous posts, I have mentioned how I find it strange that I keep coming across wonderful people who bring positives into my life in one way or another. Many times, I don't even know these people - they are individuals from who knows where in the world, but unknowingly, they help me to think about my life, where it is now, where it has been and where I want it to go.
Last week, I came across a quote which states the following:
This made me think about my own life. Am I blessed? Sometimes, it sure doesn't feel like it. As we approach spring and summer, I know that some very hard days lie ahead. Days which will be spent recalling times past - the good times and the bad times. Sadly, my life is at a point now where even the good memories are painful. There will be anniversaries and birthdays. Everyday, I look around as everyone talks about their families, and wonder why my family turned out to be so unlucky. Why did my siblings have to leave us behind? What did they do to deserve to have their lives cut short? Friends and cousins their ages have all moved on in their lives. They're getting married and starting families of their own. One day, Amar and Rocky will become distant memories. They may occasionally remember knowing "this guy I used to be friends with." But then they will move on again with their lives.
I won't forget though. And my parents won't forget. For us, Amar and Rocky will always be those 19 and 25 year old young men that were stolen from us - robbed of their own lives much too soon.
Earlier in the day, I suddenly flashed back to the hospital room just after Rocky had passed away. I flashed back to my parents and I standing around Rocky after he had left, not really knowing what to do. All of a sudden, it was over. All of a sudden, Rocky was gone and there was nothing else to be done. There were no more appointments. There were no more medications. There were no more holding of hands. There were no more hugs and kisses. There were no more soft and gentle words. There was nothing. All of a sudden, it was just...done. I remember standing there completely numb. My dad asked me to call my cousins. I pulled out my cellphone and saw a text from a cousin asking how Rocky was doing. It was time-stamped 4:28pm. Rocky had died two minutes after this text message. I texted three of my closest friends to let them know. I called my cousins and asked them to tell whoever needed to be told. And then I came back, and just stood there. The priests came from the gurdwara and said a final prayer, and as they were leaving, they hugged my parents and me, and one of them said to never feel alone, because they are all my brothers.
But they're not. Brothers will stand by you through thick and thin. They are your biggest supporters. They are your protectors - especially if you're a sister. The reality is that my brothers are gone, and there is no one else that will ever be able to take their place. There is no one else that would ever want to take their place. There is no one else that I want in their place.
When I think about Rocky and a few years before him, Amar, I recall all of the horror surrounding their losses. Amar's passing left me with a permanent physical scar that I see each and everyday. Every time I need to pick something up or grip something, I am reminded of the day that Amar left us. And Rocky - well Rocky's passing is permanently set in my brain and just can't be forgotten, even if I wanted to. I don't think I am being naïve when I say that the losses I have experienced in the last 10 or so years, many people may not experience in an entire lifetime - nor would I wish it upon anyone. Anyone who has known me throughout the last decade of my life will know that my parents and I have been nothing short of a living hell. I've been told that I've been "to hell and back." I disagree with that statement in some ways because I haven't really come back. A part of that hell is now a permanent circumstance that I am forced to live with - albeit not outright in my face as it has been in past times. To say "and back" is to imply that everything is fine again. But it isn't.
That being said however, I find that as time goes on, I am realizing more and more that despite everything, I really am blessed. My parents are amazing people. I truly do not understand how they continue to forge forward and continue to find the strength to support me each and every day. They are my harshest critics but also my biggest supporters. They truly are my everything, in every sense of the word. Their strength is undeniable, and I am so SO lucky to have them as my parents.
My friends are wonderful. I would not be here today if it weren't for some of my greatest friends. Wow. I am left speechless and in complete disbelief sometimes when I think about what these amazing girls did for me during the lowest times of my life. They literally latched on and didn't let go until I was ready to move again on my own. And even then, they handled me with padded gloves until they decided that I needed a kick in the pants. Now all they do is kick me in the pants...all the time. :| These girls support me when I need supporting. Kick my butt into gear when I need that. And everything in between as well.
My extended family. Now this is an interesting one. In many ways, these are the people that I take my frustrations out on the most. I have wonderful cousins who always want to be there for me, but for whatever reason, they are the ones that I shut out and rarely talk to about what I truly am feeling. But regardless of my attitude problem, they constantly make the effort to make sure that I'm alright.
There are some people in this world who literally have no one, and maybe if things continue the way they are, I'll be one of them. But for now, I am surrounded by wonderful people, and even have the luxury of having a few that I can shut out! I am healthy, which sometimes makes me feel guilty. I still struggle with being thankful for my health when Rocky wasn't given the same luxury. But I know that if nothing else, my being healthy makes life a bit easier to deal with for my parents. I have seen them panic when I am not well and if my staying healthy saves them from that kind of heartache, then I'll take it. I have a stable job that not only provides me security, but also allows me to constantly learn. It has allowed me to make some great friends, who for some reason or another, seem to like me. In some ways, as odd as it is to say, even my experiences have been "blessings." Would I trade the blessings in for my brothers? In a heartbeat. No question. But the reality is that I can't trade them in. And as they say, stars can't shine without darkness. My darkest days have allowed me to learn some valuable lessons that many may spend a lifetime without learning. They have taught me what is important in life. They have helped shape the woman I am today. And you know what? I like the woman I am today. I am strong enough to stand up for myself, but soft enough to lend a helping hand. I am intelligent enough to accomplish great things, but dumb enough to occasionally make a complete fool of myself. I think that I have an appreciation for life that only tragedy can bring about.
So am I blessed?
Yes. I am.
Last week, I came across a quote which states the following:
I've seen better days,
but I've also seen worse.
I don't have everything I want,
but I do have all I need.
I woke up with some aches and pains,
but I woke up.
My life may not be perfect
but I am blessed.
This made me think about my own life. Am I blessed? Sometimes, it sure doesn't feel like it. As we approach spring and summer, I know that some very hard days lie ahead. Days which will be spent recalling times past - the good times and the bad times. Sadly, my life is at a point now where even the good memories are painful. There will be anniversaries and birthdays. Everyday, I look around as everyone talks about their families, and wonder why my family turned out to be so unlucky. Why did my siblings have to leave us behind? What did they do to deserve to have their lives cut short? Friends and cousins their ages have all moved on in their lives. They're getting married and starting families of their own. One day, Amar and Rocky will become distant memories. They may occasionally remember knowing "this guy I used to be friends with." But then they will move on again with their lives.
I won't forget though. And my parents won't forget. For us, Amar and Rocky will always be those 19 and 25 year old young men that were stolen from us - robbed of their own lives much too soon.
Earlier in the day, I suddenly flashed back to the hospital room just after Rocky had passed away. I flashed back to my parents and I standing around Rocky after he had left, not really knowing what to do. All of a sudden, it was over. All of a sudden, Rocky was gone and there was nothing else to be done. There were no more appointments. There were no more medications. There were no more holding of hands. There were no more hugs and kisses. There were no more soft and gentle words. There was nothing. All of a sudden, it was just...done. I remember standing there completely numb. My dad asked me to call my cousins. I pulled out my cellphone and saw a text from a cousin asking how Rocky was doing. It was time-stamped 4:28pm. Rocky had died two minutes after this text message. I texted three of my closest friends to let them know. I called my cousins and asked them to tell whoever needed to be told. And then I came back, and just stood there. The priests came from the gurdwara and said a final prayer, and as they were leaving, they hugged my parents and me, and one of them said to never feel alone, because they are all my brothers.
But they're not. Brothers will stand by you through thick and thin. They are your biggest supporters. They are your protectors - especially if you're a sister. The reality is that my brothers are gone, and there is no one else that will ever be able to take their place. There is no one else that would ever want to take their place. There is no one else that I want in their place.
When I think about Rocky and a few years before him, Amar, I recall all of the horror surrounding their losses. Amar's passing left me with a permanent physical scar that I see each and everyday. Every time I need to pick something up or grip something, I am reminded of the day that Amar left us. And Rocky - well Rocky's passing is permanently set in my brain and just can't be forgotten, even if I wanted to. I don't think I am being naïve when I say that the losses I have experienced in the last 10 or so years, many people may not experience in an entire lifetime - nor would I wish it upon anyone. Anyone who has known me throughout the last decade of my life will know that my parents and I have been nothing short of a living hell. I've been told that I've been "to hell and back." I disagree with that statement in some ways because I haven't really come back. A part of that hell is now a permanent circumstance that I am forced to live with - albeit not outright in my face as it has been in past times. To say "and back" is to imply that everything is fine again. But it isn't.
That being said however, I find that as time goes on, I am realizing more and more that despite everything, I really am blessed. My parents are amazing people. I truly do not understand how they continue to forge forward and continue to find the strength to support me each and every day. They are my harshest critics but also my biggest supporters. They truly are my everything, in every sense of the word. Their strength is undeniable, and I am so SO lucky to have them as my parents.
My friends are wonderful. I would not be here today if it weren't for some of my greatest friends. Wow. I am left speechless and in complete disbelief sometimes when I think about what these amazing girls did for me during the lowest times of my life. They literally latched on and didn't let go until I was ready to move again on my own. And even then, they handled me with padded gloves until they decided that I needed a kick in the pants. Now all they do is kick me in the pants...all the time. :| These girls support me when I need supporting. Kick my butt into gear when I need that. And everything in between as well.
My extended family. Now this is an interesting one. In many ways, these are the people that I take my frustrations out on the most. I have wonderful cousins who always want to be there for me, but for whatever reason, they are the ones that I shut out and rarely talk to about what I truly am feeling. But regardless of my attitude problem, they constantly make the effort to make sure that I'm alright.
There are some people in this world who literally have no one, and maybe if things continue the way they are, I'll be one of them. But for now, I am surrounded by wonderful people, and even have the luxury of having a few that I can shut out! I am healthy, which sometimes makes me feel guilty. I still struggle with being thankful for my health when Rocky wasn't given the same luxury. But I know that if nothing else, my being healthy makes life a bit easier to deal with for my parents. I have seen them panic when I am not well and if my staying healthy saves them from that kind of heartache, then I'll take it. I have a stable job that not only provides me security, but also allows me to constantly learn. It has allowed me to make some great friends, who for some reason or another, seem to like me. In some ways, as odd as it is to say, even my experiences have been "blessings." Would I trade the blessings in for my brothers? In a heartbeat. No question. But the reality is that I can't trade them in. And as they say, stars can't shine without darkness. My darkest days have allowed me to learn some valuable lessons that many may spend a lifetime without learning. They have taught me what is important in life. They have helped shape the woman I am today. And you know what? I like the woman I am today. I am strong enough to stand up for myself, but soft enough to lend a helping hand. I am intelligent enough to accomplish great things, but dumb enough to occasionally make a complete fool of myself. I think that I have an appreciation for life that only tragedy can bring about.
So am I blessed?
Yes. I am.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
It's that time of year again...
Hi everyone,
Well, it is that time of year again, when I humbly ask for your support in a cause dear to my heart. I sent out my annual email earlier this week, but have decided to post my appeal here as well to reach anyone that I may not have already gotten to.
The 2013 Ride to Conquer Cancer is just around the corner, and as we do each year, we need to raise as much as we can in an effort to put an end to this horrendous disease.
This year's Ride will be taking place over the weekend of June 15-16, and this year our team is comprised of only myself and Rocky's best friend, Paul Gill. I was speaking with Paul earlier this week about Rocky and about the Ride. It is hard for us to believe that June 16 will mark four years since Rocky's diagnosis. Four years. In many ways, time has flown by. In many other ways, time has crawled. Everyone who knew Rocky has been affected in different ways. I can only speak for myself when I describe my struggle to come to terms with and move forward from Rocky's battle and ultimate passing.
For many of you, this will be the first time you are hearing this story. For others, you will have received an annual email in past years. And for some, you will have detailed insider information about just how difficult my own personal struggle has been. Those who know me best will attest to just how badly Rocky's diagnosis terrified me. They will be able to tell you how my precious baby brother became the be all, end all of my life. Every waking moment of my life from June 9, 2009, the day of Rocky's initial hospitalization, through to August 16, 2010, the day of Rocky's passing, revolved solely around Rocky's health and treatments.
These friends will also tell you that every waking moment from August 17, 2010, until very recently revolved around trying to make sense of, and being unable to cope with my indescribable loss.
June 16 will also mark 11 years since the passing of my second brother, Amar. Amar was three years younger than me, and three years older than Rocky. We lost him in 2002, and while I remember struggling with his loss, Rocky's loss can only be described as being the most painful experience I have ever gone through. The best way I can describe it is that Amar's passing left a deep crack in my heart. Rocky's passing shattered it.
With some amazing support, I have lived through some of the darkest moments of my life. I am by no stretch 'over' Rocky's loss. I still struggle each day, but for the first time since I started sending out these emails in 2010, I am able to say that I feel I am getting better. Some days are harder than others, but those hard days are starting to become farther and farther apart. This opens up another painful concern though - am I forgetting my brother? But that is something I will deal with as it comes. For now, it's about this Ride.
For those of you that don't know, I participated in my first Ride in June 2010 after watching Rocky battle for nearly a year. In June 2009, Rocky was hospitalized for severe abdominal pain, which doctors initially thought was pancreatitis. He had been having the abdominal pain for a few weeks, but had tolerated it because he had just recently started a new job with the Major Crimes Section of the RCMP, and missing a day of work to see a doctor as not an option. It wasn't until his first compressed day off that he went to see a doctor, who ordered tests and sent him directly to Emergency. I got a call from my dad as I was getting ready for work that morning, asking if I could meet Rocky there, because he and my mom were worried, but Rocky didn't want them there. Of course I was going to meet him. So I arrived at the hospital and sat with him for hours while he quietly tolerated the pain without being able to lie down. Finally, they started him on morphine and told him that he would need to stay for a couple of days so that the pancreatitis could resolve. They put him on saline and pulled him off food, expecting his very high lipase levels to crash and become normal in the next day or so.
The following day, blood results revealed that rather than decreasing, Rocky's lipase levels had increased again. At this point, they ordered a CT to make sure everything was lining up. It was after this CT that we got our first indication of trouble. An endocrinologist, in speaking with Rocky about a minor thyroid issue, dropped the T-word. Tumor. All of a sudden, things became very serious and very sombre. Rocky was transferred from a stretcher in the hall of Emergency to a ward, and test after test after test was conducted. One morning about a week after Rocky's initial admission to hospital, I took a trip to the temple before going to the hospital. When I walked in, Rocky was wiping sweat from his forehead and looked pale and shaken. I asked him if he was okay, and he said "you better sit down." I did, and this is when Rocky told me that the doctor had just come by, and that he said "you have lumps and bumps everywhere." At this point, all we knew was that it could be one of three things - all of them different forms of cancer: gastrointestinal, thyroid and lymphoma. We were told to hope for lymphoma.
Immediately the concern for both of us became how we were going to tell our parents - particularly our mom. Our mom had lost her 26 year old brother to cancer 33 years prior, and she had never come to terms with that tragedy. How were we going to tell our parents that their youngest child, their favorite child, their baby was about to embark on a terrifying battle against cancer? We strategized and decided to tell our dad first. I had left them at the temple, and dad was going to leave mom there and go open up shop. I called dad and asked him to come to the hospital. He did. Together, Rocky and I broke the news to him. He didn't flinch. He said that it was fine, and we were going to deal with it. And then he asked what Rocky and I had already been thinking - how are we going to tell mom? We decided to let her call when she was ready to leave the temple and we would deal with it then. When she did call, my dad said that he would go pick her up. This proved to be mom's first sign that something was wrong. The original plan was for me to go pick her up. When I didn't show up but dad did, mom immediately knew something was off. But she stayed quiet and prayed all the way to the hospital. Once she got there, the three of us gently broke the news to her. Mom was sitting on a recliner by Rocky's bedside, slightly out of Rocky's line of vision. When I said the words, and Rocky heard nothing, he turned his head to look up at her. She smiled, put her hand on his head and said "that's okay." We'll get through it. And shortly afterwards, very calmly, she told me to stay with Rocky and that she and dad would go home quickly. Rocky didn't know what that meant. I did. Sure enough, I heard after the fact, that they had only gotten out of the hospital doors and into the parkade when they became inconsolable. That afternoon, my dad pushed his youngest child's wheelchair through the halls of Surrey Memorial Hospital, up to the Oncology ward.
After multiple biopsies, we were given "good news." Rocky had Diffuse Large B-Cell Non Hodgkin's Lymphoma. Not as easy as Hodgkin's Lymphoma to treat, but a better prognosis than gastrointestinal or thyroid would offer us. Throughout this entire process, Rocky's abdominal pain had worsened, and he was put on Hydromorphone, which is 8x more potent than morphine. He was receiving subcutaneous doses around the clock to keep him comfortable. On July 2, 2009, Rocky started chemotherapy. He was nervous. We were nervous. No one knew what to expect. The only thing Rocky knew was that it made people vomit, so as nurses prepared to administer the drugs, my poor baby brother pulled a tray near to prepare for the vomiting. I assured him that anything that he would feel would be after the fact and not during the treatment itself. So innocent, so undeserving.
On Rocky's 24th birthday, we spent the day at the hospital and after he sent us home at the end of the day, I received a text message from him telling me that I would need to arrange for "beanies" and shades as soon as possible, because his hair had started to fall out. He had gone into the bathroom to wash up before bed and his entire beard pretty much ended up on his hands. Rocky was finally discharged the following week - 42 day after his initial admission to hospital. He went in weighing nearly 200lbs. He came out weighing 150.
During the chemotherapy process, along with all of the normal side effects, Rocky experienced a painful rash on his head. His entire scalp was red, tender and visibly painful. He cringed everytime someone walked by, afraid that they would touch his head. Along with that came a bout of meningitis which resulted in a horribly painful headache.
After his fourth round of chemo, Rocky went in for a pre-planned CT scan to check progress. The good news was that all of the existing masses had either shrunk or disappeared. The bad news was that two new masses had grown. Oncologists were encouraging, but we would find out much later that Rocky's fate had pretty much been sealed with these results. This was bad news. Very bad news. On the Oncologists' advice, Rocky completed the last two rounds of chemotherapy and underwent another CT scan. The two new masses were still there, and so a PET scan was ordered to determine whether they were cancer. On December 3, what would have been Amar's 27th birthday, we got the results. Rocky had tested PET-positive for cancer. The battle was not over.
While everyone prepared with excitement for the 2010 Olympic Games in Vancouver, my brother underwent test after test to ensure his body was healthy enough to withstand a stem cell transplant. He had a tube inserted in his chest which went directly into his heart. This tube would be used to administer extreme dose chemotherapy, which would essentially wipe out Rocky's bone marrow. The same tube would then be used to transplant stem cells which would hopefully rebuild healthy marrow.
Vancouver 2010's Opening Ceremonies took place on February 12, 2010. Rocky was admitted to Vancouver General Hospital's Leukemia ward on February 15. He would not be discharged until after the world had gone home. He was released from hospital on March 9. He watched the entire Games from his hospital bed, rather than being out and enjoying the games in his hometown. But that was okay, because the hope was that in 2014, we'd be headed to Sochi. While the world watched the men's gold medal hockey game, my brother slept, too exhausted to wake up and watch with me. He woke up literally 30 seconds before Sidney Crosby's historic goal, lifted his arm in the air, whispered "Sid the Kid" and fell back asleep. But everything was okay because this treatment was supposed to make him healthy again.
In late April, Rocky went in for another PET-scan. Rocky's Oncologist called me at work with the results. I listened speechlessly as he said "Randeep, it came back positive" and then I just started crying. What was it going to take? I asked the Oncologist, "Doctor, what do you think - what are Rocky's chances at this point?" and for the first time, he said "Randeep, I'm worried." After consulting with a board of Oncologists, the team decided that Rocky should undergo intense radiotherapy, so 5 times a week, for 4 weeks, Rocky underwent radiation to target the mass on his liver. This mass swelled and pushed up against his diaphragm, making it extremely painful for Rocky to breathe. At this point, Rocky said that every pain episode that he had experienced since the abdominal pain that had started it all, was worse than the last. He had rated the abdominal pain at a 15 out of 10, but even that was starting to feel like child's play after the pain episodes that he experienced afterwards.
Rocky completed radiation on June 16, 2010 - one year to the day since his diagnosis, and on the 8th anniversary of Amar's passing. He looked great, he felt great, his blood counts looked promising. For the first time, June 16 felt like a good day. It was short-lived. A mere 10 days later, Rocky was taken back to Emergency after feeling extremely dizzy, and after more tests and another transfer up to Oncology, Rocky was told that the cancer had spread and that there was nothing else that could be done. I will never forget sitting speechlessly watching my brother react to the news and then beg the Oncologist to do something...anything. But there was nothing else to do except make him "comfortable."
On July 13, a couple of days before his 25th birthday, Rocky experienced an extreme pain crisis. Rocky was a quiet young man. He never complained about his pain, despite ranking his episodes at 15/10. But on this day, Rocky's eyes were wide, tears streaming out of them. He was thrashing all over his bed, SCREAMING. He looked me in the eyes and screamed over and over that "this is beyond an emergency! I need help! Do something! I'm on fire! Help me!" After what felt like an eternity, doctors ordered enormous doses of hydromorphone and ketomine (even more potent than hydromorphone) to be adminstered. On this evening, as other patients watched in shock, my beautiful baby brother, 2 days shy of his 25th birthday, was transferred to a private room in the Palliative Care ward. A room reserved for patients facing imminent death. The Oncologists told us to call family, because they would be surprised if Rocky made it through the week.
Remarkably, after a couple of weeks, Rocky had stabilized enough to be discharged from hospital, but received at-home care because of his terminal condition. Around the clock, my mom and I administered drugs to keep his pain under control. Together, he and my mom prayed everyday. We laughed, we cried. We even went grocery shopping. But Rocky's condition was evident. His legs had swelled to the point that he could not get up and down stairs without assistance. He could not walk normally and resorted to the use of a cane. His shoes wouldn't fit because his feet were so swollen. His appetite was next to nothing. But every morning, he came into my room, grabbed my foot and tickled me until I got out of bed. The Rocky that we had lost after Amar's passing was back, but only for a short time.
On August 7, Rocky returned to hospital for a blood transfusion because his counts were too low. He would not come home. On August 16, surrounded by his family, Rocky left us forever. When Rocky passed away, he had 11 different ports on his arms and thigh for all of the medication that he was receiving. He was finally free of the pain, the medications and cancer in general. Rocky was gone to a better place. But our lives had just turned into a living hell.
I know that I will never come to terms with Rocky's passing. The funny thing about time is that it forces us to get used to living without our loved ones, but the pain doesn't ever really go away. I look at my mom now and wonder how she lived 33 years with the pain of losing her brother, only to be faced with the same disease afflicting her son. I know how I have struggled with my brother's passing. I cannot even begin to imagine how my parents are dealing with their son's passing.
This disease has to stop. It has affected too many people. It has taken too many lives. It continues to devastate families each and every day. Cancer does not discriminate. It affects the old and young. Male and female. Rich and poor. It doesn't care if you have obligations. It doesn't care if you have hopes and dreams. It doesn't care if your family needs you.
The only way to do anything about it though is to continue to raise funds in the hopes that one day, another Rocky will be saved, and will be able to live a long and fruitful life. Why do I ride? I ask myself this every single year. Rocky as the nearest and dearest to my heart. There is not a single person on this Earth, whose passing will affect me the way Rocky's has. He was my everything. So why should I care to help anyone else if nothing will help him? Because as Rocky lay on his deathbed, he specifically asked to keep the battle going after he was gone, because "no one deserves this." Rocky was an amazing young man. A couple of weeks after he passed away, i went into his room and opened up his nighttable drawer and found a piece of paper with the following words:
"Though nothing will bring back the hour,
of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower,
we will greive not;
Rather, find strength in what remains behind."
Rocky deliberately left these words for us in case he never returned from the hospital. Few his age would think of others when they are facing their own demise. He asked for a small funeral comprising only of those who would help us during our time of need, rather than those there for a show. He asked that his friends be told of his passing after the funeral so that they would remember him for what he was rather than what he became. The thought of Rocky imagining his own funeral rips through my heart. I cannot even describe what I feel when I think of this.
I ride for that amazing young man. A young man that gave it his all to get better, more for his family than himself. How can I be selfish when he was so selfless? It would be an insult to his legacy if I chose to be selfish and not help anyone else. He deserves at least that much.
Over the last 3 years, with the support of wonderful donors, our team has managed to raise nearly $30,000 to help with cancer research. As we all know, there is work yet to be done, and for that reason, I sit before you asking once again for your support in this very important cause. Once again, I ask you to open your hearts and wallets so that together, we can make a difference and so that I can help keep my brother's dying wish alive.
Once again, we have set up our webpage: www.conquercancer.ca/goto/Rockstars2013, where you can click on either my name, or Paul's and make a donation. Your support in the past has been sincerely appreciated, and it is my hope that we can count on your support again in the future.
Please help us make a difference. Help us keep Rocky alive. Help us fight so no one else has to.
Please, give courageously.
And from the bottom of my heart, thank you.
Kind regards and best wishes,
Rocky's sister
Randeep Gill
Team Captain
Rocky's Rockstars
Ride to Conquer Cancer
Website: www.conquercancer.ca/goto/Rockstars2013
Blog: www.rockysrockstars.blogspot.ca
Monday, January 14, 2013
What is Life?
Well, it's 3:28am, and I've been kept up all night by a question that was posed earlier this evening by a friend. What is life? What is its purpose?
Anyone who knows me well knows that this is probably the number one way to mess with my head. :) So here I am, once again, pondering what the purpose is of this life.
As everyone knows, our experiences shape the people we become, and we are constantly changing based on those experiences. There is zero doubt at all that the loss of my siblings has played an enormous role in my becoming the person that I am today. I've stated many times to my closest friends that had it not been for Ricky passing away, I likely wouldn't have gotten married to the person I did. Had it not been for Rocky passing away, I likely would not be in the process of ending that same relationship. But those two young men did pass away, and with them came drastic, life-altering decisions that I can honestly say would not have been made had they been around. The question then arises - why? Why did Ricky's passing trigger a hasty decision to get married? And why did Rocky's passing trigger the courage to end that same marriage?
The only thing I can think of is that after Ricky passed away, life became hard. Very hard. I can only say that it seemed like a good idea to get married at that time to provide a much needed distraction. I'm not saying I sacrificed myself for the good of my family. That's not the case. I'm not that selfless. I honestly did think that the person I was marrying was "the one." There was no doubt that I wanted to marry him, but as they say, hindsight is 20/20, and as I look back, there were many signs that the idea probably wasn't a good one. But in any case, he was "the one" at that time.
Then came Rocky's illness and subsequent passing, and all of a sudden, life became even harder. Much harder. What I don't sometimes understand is why, when Ricky's passing triggered a decision that would bring happiness to those around me, did Rocky's passing triggered a decision that would bring sadness. Obviously no parent wants to see their child's marriage fall apart, so why did I put my parents through that at a time when they were already reeling from their losses?
Many times, I have wondered if I made a mistake leaving that relationship. And each time, my heart and mind have told me that I have not. Every single time, I come to the conclusion that life is too short to be anything but happy. Life is too short to worry about what anyone but yourself feels is right. Life is too short to waste.
DISCLAIMER: I'm not telling everyone to go and get divorced. That is absolutely not the case. Every relationship has its issues. Brother-sister relationships do, parent-child relationships do, husband-wife relationships do. You don't walk away from a relationship when things get hard - you work hard to make those relationships work. But sometimes, some relationships aren't meant to survive, and mine is one of those unfortunate relationships. On the flip side, some relationships are forced to survive for various reasons. In any case, the decision is for each to make on his or her own, based on his or her circumstances. I can only say that based on where my life was at the time, walking away was the best decision for OUR relationship.
So back to the discussion about life. I won't lie, there have been many, many times that I have been saddened by the reality that is my life. Every now and again, I hear my parents reminisce about their youth and their "college days." I have heard that the years of teens and 20s are the best years of ones life, and days that many think about as they get older and long to go back to. I am now 33 years old, and already at a relatively young age (for the record, I feel much older), I find myself thinking back to "the good ol' days." My teen years were spent under strict control of my parents. The focus was solely on education, for good reason. My parents, like every other parent, wanted their children to work hard and make something of their lives. Being the eldest however, I was the experimental child. Every rule was practiced on me and then relaxed for the siblings behind me. I was the easy child though. My focus was always on making something of myself (eldest child syndrome?), and that wasn't going to happen without an education. So that's what I did - I studied. Every Friday night was spent in the company of my textbooks. Every weekend was spent studying. Every summer was spent getting ahead by taking summer courses. The efforts paid off and I ended up being, at times, a ridiculously successful student. That work ethic continued into university, and after a couple of years of being unable to find my niche, I finally found it in Psychology. After starting to work full-time at a job that was too good to give up, I cut school down to part-time. Between working full-time and trying to finish school, I was left with little time to do much else...so I didn't. Then in June 2002, Ricky passed away, and all of a sudden, life was turned upside down. I was only 22 when Ricky was taken from us. In hindsight, still a child, but one that was forced to grow up pretty quickly. Any hopes of "having fun" were pretty much wiped out with Ricky's passing. Through that struggle, I finally completed my university degree in May 2004 and by this time, was already engaged to be married. I dove into wedding preparations and got married in August 2004. In September, I switched gears, returned to school and started my path to a CGA.
For the next 5 years, that's what life was about. School, work, marriage, school, work, marriage. At 24, I was a wife, a daughter in law, a student and an employee. Hindsight, again, is 20/20, and I see now that I was not much of a daughter or sister for those 5 years. I simply didn't have time to be. There would sometimes be weeks between the times that I spoke or saw Rocky, and THAT bothers me to this day. Because of my priorities at the time, I missed out on 5 years of my brother's life. Life was supposed to calm down once school was finished. If I charge through now, I can be done by this time, and then I'll have time to do this and that. But life doesn't work on our schedule. That is a lesson that I have learned the hard way. In June 2009, Rocky, as everyone knows, was diagnosed with cancer. My priorities changed - he became my only priority. But that didn't stop me from working. That didn't stop me from taking courses. I still did both of those things.
Rocky died in August 2010, and my CGA still wasn't complete.
I considered quitting the CGA during Rocky's illness, when it became evident that he would not survive. But my baby brother, in many ways, knew me better than I knew myself, and he must have been able to sense that I would be a quitter, because he told my husband at the time, to ensure that I completed the program. He also knew I could never say no to his wishes.
Cost-benefit analysis is a topic discussed often in CGA courses. There have been minimal benefits of a CGA to date, since I was already doing my current job before being designated. But what did this CGA cost me? It cost me time with my brother. Time that I will never get back. It cost me laughs, talks, fights, arguments. It cost me countless memories.
I was 30 when Rocky passed away, and now 2 1/2 years later, I sit here and wonder, what I have to look back and reminisce about.
Do I look back and reminisce about how I spent all of my time with my textbooks in my teen years? Do I look back and reminsce about the falling out after Ricky's passing? Or do I look back and reminsce about sacrificing time with my brother in pursuit of a better career?
What will I look back to when I'm old(er)?
In November 2011, I finally learned that life is too short to be anything but happy. That is one of the major lessons that Rocky taught me. And that is why I left my marriage. There was no point struggling in an unhappy relationship when he and I could both have a chance at happiness by being apart.
It has been a tough lesson, but one that is valuable. The point of life is to be happy. It's to love those around you, cherish each moment with them, because you just don't know what tomorrow holds. It's to pursue goals, but not at the expense of everything else in your life. I will never get a second chance to spend time with my brothers. I have lost that opportunity, but hope that through my experiences, someone else may take advantage of the time they've been given.
I don't know if I'll ever truly be happy in life, given the losses that my parents and I have suffered, but it would be cowardice to not try. It would be an injustice to two amazing young men, who I feel in many ways, had to sacrifice their lives in order to teach me a lesson. And to let that sacrifice go to waste would be unjustifiable.
So please, live life, be happy, cherish the time you have because no one knows what tomorrow will bring.
Love you boys - now and always. Thank you...and I'm sorry.<3 <3
Anyone who knows me well knows that this is probably the number one way to mess with my head. :) So here I am, once again, pondering what the purpose is of this life.
As everyone knows, our experiences shape the people we become, and we are constantly changing based on those experiences. There is zero doubt at all that the loss of my siblings has played an enormous role in my becoming the person that I am today. I've stated many times to my closest friends that had it not been for Ricky passing away, I likely wouldn't have gotten married to the person I did. Had it not been for Rocky passing away, I likely would not be in the process of ending that same relationship. But those two young men did pass away, and with them came drastic, life-altering decisions that I can honestly say would not have been made had they been around. The question then arises - why? Why did Ricky's passing trigger a hasty decision to get married? And why did Rocky's passing trigger the courage to end that same marriage?
The only thing I can think of is that after Ricky passed away, life became hard. Very hard. I can only say that it seemed like a good idea to get married at that time to provide a much needed distraction. I'm not saying I sacrificed myself for the good of my family. That's not the case. I'm not that selfless. I honestly did think that the person I was marrying was "the one." There was no doubt that I wanted to marry him, but as they say, hindsight is 20/20, and as I look back, there were many signs that the idea probably wasn't a good one. But in any case, he was "the one" at that time.
Then came Rocky's illness and subsequent passing, and all of a sudden, life became even harder. Much harder. What I don't sometimes understand is why, when Ricky's passing triggered a decision that would bring happiness to those around me, did Rocky's passing triggered a decision that would bring sadness. Obviously no parent wants to see their child's marriage fall apart, so why did I put my parents through that at a time when they were already reeling from their losses?
Many times, I have wondered if I made a mistake leaving that relationship. And each time, my heart and mind have told me that I have not. Every single time, I come to the conclusion that life is too short to be anything but happy. Life is too short to worry about what anyone but yourself feels is right. Life is too short to waste.
DISCLAIMER: I'm not telling everyone to go and get divorced. That is absolutely not the case. Every relationship has its issues. Brother-sister relationships do, parent-child relationships do, husband-wife relationships do. You don't walk away from a relationship when things get hard - you work hard to make those relationships work. But sometimes, some relationships aren't meant to survive, and mine is one of those unfortunate relationships. On the flip side, some relationships are forced to survive for various reasons. In any case, the decision is for each to make on his or her own, based on his or her circumstances. I can only say that based on where my life was at the time, walking away was the best decision for OUR relationship.
So back to the discussion about life. I won't lie, there have been many, many times that I have been saddened by the reality that is my life. Every now and again, I hear my parents reminisce about their youth and their "college days." I have heard that the years of teens and 20s are the best years of ones life, and days that many think about as they get older and long to go back to. I am now 33 years old, and already at a relatively young age (for the record, I feel much older), I find myself thinking back to "the good ol' days." My teen years were spent under strict control of my parents. The focus was solely on education, for good reason. My parents, like every other parent, wanted their children to work hard and make something of their lives. Being the eldest however, I was the experimental child. Every rule was practiced on me and then relaxed for the siblings behind me. I was the easy child though. My focus was always on making something of myself (eldest child syndrome?), and that wasn't going to happen without an education. So that's what I did - I studied. Every Friday night was spent in the company of my textbooks. Every weekend was spent studying. Every summer was spent getting ahead by taking summer courses. The efforts paid off and I ended up being, at times, a ridiculously successful student. That work ethic continued into university, and after a couple of years of being unable to find my niche, I finally found it in Psychology. After starting to work full-time at a job that was too good to give up, I cut school down to part-time. Between working full-time and trying to finish school, I was left with little time to do much else...so I didn't. Then in June 2002, Ricky passed away, and all of a sudden, life was turned upside down. I was only 22 when Ricky was taken from us. In hindsight, still a child, but one that was forced to grow up pretty quickly. Any hopes of "having fun" were pretty much wiped out with Ricky's passing. Through that struggle, I finally completed my university degree in May 2004 and by this time, was already engaged to be married. I dove into wedding preparations and got married in August 2004. In September, I switched gears, returned to school and started my path to a CGA.
For the next 5 years, that's what life was about. School, work, marriage, school, work, marriage. At 24, I was a wife, a daughter in law, a student and an employee. Hindsight, again, is 20/20, and I see now that I was not much of a daughter or sister for those 5 years. I simply didn't have time to be. There would sometimes be weeks between the times that I spoke or saw Rocky, and THAT bothers me to this day. Because of my priorities at the time, I missed out on 5 years of my brother's life. Life was supposed to calm down once school was finished. If I charge through now, I can be done by this time, and then I'll have time to do this and that. But life doesn't work on our schedule. That is a lesson that I have learned the hard way. In June 2009, Rocky, as everyone knows, was diagnosed with cancer. My priorities changed - he became my only priority. But that didn't stop me from working. That didn't stop me from taking courses. I still did both of those things.
Rocky died in August 2010, and my CGA still wasn't complete.
I considered quitting the CGA during Rocky's illness, when it became evident that he would not survive. But my baby brother, in many ways, knew me better than I knew myself, and he must have been able to sense that I would be a quitter, because he told my husband at the time, to ensure that I completed the program. He also knew I could never say no to his wishes.
Cost-benefit analysis is a topic discussed often in CGA courses. There have been minimal benefits of a CGA to date, since I was already doing my current job before being designated. But what did this CGA cost me? It cost me time with my brother. Time that I will never get back. It cost me laughs, talks, fights, arguments. It cost me countless memories.
I was 30 when Rocky passed away, and now 2 1/2 years later, I sit here and wonder, what I have to look back and reminisce about.
Do I look back and reminisce about how I spent all of my time with my textbooks in my teen years? Do I look back and reminsce about the falling out after Ricky's passing? Or do I look back and reminsce about sacrificing time with my brother in pursuit of a better career?
What will I look back to when I'm old(er)?
In November 2011, I finally learned that life is too short to be anything but happy. That is one of the major lessons that Rocky taught me. And that is why I left my marriage. There was no point struggling in an unhappy relationship when he and I could both have a chance at happiness by being apart.
It has been a tough lesson, but one that is valuable. The point of life is to be happy. It's to love those around you, cherish each moment with them, because you just don't know what tomorrow holds. It's to pursue goals, but not at the expense of everything else in your life. I will never get a second chance to spend time with my brothers. I have lost that opportunity, but hope that through my experiences, someone else may take advantage of the time they've been given.
I don't know if I'll ever truly be happy in life, given the losses that my parents and I have suffered, but it would be cowardice to not try. It would be an injustice to two amazing young men, who I feel in many ways, had to sacrifice their lives in order to teach me a lesson. And to let that sacrifice go to waste would be unjustifiable.
So please, live life, be happy, cherish the time you have because no one knows what tomorrow will bring.
Love you boys - now and always. Thank you...and I'm sorry.<3 <3
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