I haven't taken the time to post a lot lately, till today with my third post of the day.
A long while ago I wrote that Moose and I both saw a Craniosacral therapist. I like referring to her as his Witch Doctor, in that it was tough to tell exactly what she did. From just figuring out where to lay her hands, she did some amazing things including helping me recover from a pulled muscle, draining my sinuses (I'm serious), and helping Moose become more focused and alert. Over time she, Norma, became a good friend of the family, regularly working on Moose, less frequently working on me, and even taking numerous voice lessons from Wife. It seemed she and Moose had a deeper connection than we did with her. He knew she was there to help him feel better. Hell, it was her job to make everyone else just feel better, but somehow the two of them were connected, mentally.
It's unfortunate that no one was able to help her feel better. On August 9 she died after a five-year long battle with breast cancer. Wife wrote about her at the beginning of this month. We only just learned of her death last weekend, since she went to a different state to die with her family nearby. Anyway, soon after we met in 2005, she already had Stage 4 cancer (i.e. it was advanced) and had prognosis of about five months to live. She held it at bay WITHOUT chemotherapy for a handful for years and led a good, healthy, active life. The disease became too much for her in a matter of just a few short weeks.
It's hard to believe she's gone. She died less than two months after our move away from SCT, so there are several friends we've not seen since the move. We don't actively "miss" her any more than we miss our other SCT friends since we no longer were going to see her regularly. Still, it's odd knowing she's gone. She's sorely missed. Moose is still saying "night night Norma" at least once per day, so I wonder if he's aware of her passing. I'm not sure, but I bet somehow he knows.
Sometimes I find death depressing, but this time I'm more at peace. It's not that I'm at all happy Norma is gone, but in her case I'm relieved that she's no longer battling cancer. I do think it's just wrong that a fifty-something woman who did nothing but help others her entire life had to be consumed by that disease. Just doesn't seem fair to me.
I know, I know: Life ain't fair. Perhaps death is, though? Hell, I dunno.
Regardless of your own view on life and death, please keep Norma and her family in your thoughts for the next day or two.