Saul Good and Co.

Say That You Remember

September is Childhood Cancer Awareness month. As if there's been a month of my conscious life that I haven't been aware of childhood cancer. Even if I hadn't dedicated my professional life to it. Even if September had not been awarded this designation. September is the month that we lost my sister (coming up on 41 years, now) and it's a reminder of the space she left in our family that has never been filled. The pain changes, but it's never gone, and the impact of losing her to this brutal disease is never diminished, it only morphs into different manifestations. Hi everybody, I am your ambassador of how childhood cancer fucks up lives forever and though I am not special in this--it obviously affects many kids and families--I also have a slightly skewed perspective because my job gets me a front row seat to other people's pain so maybe I assume people think about childhood cancer more than they would ever have to, so that's why we need a month like this (don't even get me started on the state of healthcare in this country).

My sister's death makes as much sense to me now as it did when I was five, and I will never get over it as long as I live. There's no way around it. Losing my sister to childhood cancer shaped my life profoundly and in ways I am still discovering, but that's her death, not her life.

 

Whenever this time of year rolls around, I make a point to make the distinction between mourning her death and honoring her life. I didn't get to know Danielle, not really, and I have hardly any memories of her, not just because her life was so short and we were so young, but because trauma has a way of making your brain play tricks on itself. My (probably futile) quest to know my sister dovetails into my quest to uncover information about myself, sure, but it's not just that. Her actual life is a mystery I might never solve, and it haunts me personally, but no matter what, she was here and she meant so much to so many people. She made a mark. She didn't get to live enough but in her time she was loved, so loved. I know I loved her even if I didn't know her, and at the end of the day that's all I need to know.

 

I celebrate Danielle in September because I don't want to give cancer the power to erase her. I celebrate her again in December, the month of her birth and all the months in between. 

 

 

A Simple Message

Yesterday was Yom Kippur. I'm not religious at all and Mike isn't particularly observant, but we usually fast together and take the day to do some self reflection. It's a time of atonement, to apologize to each other for our transgressions and ask forgiveness and move on. And it does feel good. Even though it sucks to sit and relive your worst moments, it's productive, I think. I'm a bit of a fuck-up, if you must know, but I'm working with my fuckery. That's all, really. I don't need a religious holiday to bring that to the forefront, but I am not above using it for inspiration. 

Anyway, if I have wronged you this year I am heartily sorry and it's my goal to do better in the next year. 

Threat or Promise?

HR is back in school and things are cooking. I'm nervous but I live in one of the most historically cautious cities in the US, COVID-wise, so I'm just taking comfort in that and being thrilled for him that he has such a great 6th grade team and that he has a real schedule because that kid thrives on structure and he seems to have grown out of the heartbreaking separation-related anxiety that used to plague us all. Oh yeah, my kid is a 6th grader now. FEELINGS. Mostly good ones.

In the spirit of my own back-to-school nostalgia and craving for routine and discipline, I've been working on the next draft of my book and it feels great. So great. Maybe I'll just keep working on it forever. I'll be blogging more too, I think, because I want to. 

As usual my head is exploding with everything that's wrong in the world--the old stuff and the latest stuff--but look look look I'm actually physically in the office today! (Unmasked at the moment because I'm the only one here, FYI. We are super rigorous considering the immunocompromised population we deal with).  I'm not here every day, but being back in any capacity is a tiny victory. Here's to the tiniest nano-victories, may they add up to bigger ones. More super super soon.