Cancer Sucks

It had been a couple weeks since the cancer took my husband, and I tried to continue and keep my life as normal as possible. The funereal had been beautiful, and almost all of South Jersey showed up; the fruit baskets, pies, casseroles, and other sympathy dishes had either been eaten or donated to the local homeless shelters and soup kitchens. I tried my best to comply to Zacky’s wishes: to live my life like I normally would, but I was finding it extremely hard.

The timer on the oven dinged letting me know that the cheese bread was finally done, the sound of the oven’s loud beeping reverberated throughout my now quiet house. Sighing, I put the photo album I was looking at down onto the coffee table. The pasta I had made for dinner had been done for the past few minutes, but as I was waiting for the cheese bread to be done I decided to go through old photos (even though I knew it was silly and too soon for me to do something like that). Despite the fact that I thought it would be hard for me, going through the hundreds of pictures I had taken over the past ten years felt oddly comforting—like Zacky was here with me and not six feet under.

Placing the steaming hot metal sheet onto one of the vacant burners, I took off the oven mitt and started placing the cheese bread slices on a clean plate. Once I was finished placing all the food onto the small kitchen table (which was big enough for a family of four) there was a knock on the front door. Walking towards the door, I reached for the lock as I glanced through the peephole. A smile (wow, it feels like ages since I’ve actually smiled) immediately stretched across my face as I flung open the door—which almost knocked me over in the process.

“Babydoll!” the person exclaimed, a smile of his own plastered on his face. Inviting himself in, he looked around the place before scooping me up in an enormous hug. Giggling, I hugged him back. His aftershave filling my nose as he started to blubber on about his life since the last time I had seen him; which had coincidentally been at Zachary’s funeral.

“What are you doing back so early? I thought your trip was for another couple days?” I questioned, once he released me.

This man was James Sullivan: one of the greatest people on the entire planet. This guy was a character, and no ordinary one at that. He was the type of person you would have thought, for certain, escaped from some mental hospital. He performed crazy antics, had a bizarre fashion sense, and not to mention he was extremely bold. Jimmy was all around an amazing human being. He was one-of-a-kind. He was my rock; my best friend. I would be at lost without him—especially at this point in time.

Smiling, Jimmy said quickly, “God, can’t a guy miss this lovely lady right here?” Before I knew it, Jimmy already was out of my sight and at the kitchen table making himself a plate and settling down. “Aye, darling you have any alcohol? Papa’s dying over here.”

Laughing loudly, I shouted back a yes before grabbing the bottle of Jack from the top cabinet in the kitchen. Setting the bottle of liquor on the table, Jimmy happily poured himself some before he continued to dig into the meal I slaved over for a whole twenty minutes. Quietly, I made myself a plate too. Listening off handily about Jimmy’s current trip to Ohio where he was visiting some long distance family he hasn’t seen in some years.

“-And then this fucking duck came out of nowhere, Mia! I was like dumbstruck! Who knew these precious animals lived in Ohio, I mean hell: it’s Ohio. Old people live there. You know, speaking of old people, they don’t like you crawling on their lawns. Something about how hard they worked over mulching and ‘how these damn kids nowadays have no sort of respect’," I mean I was just trying to get Gavin’s ball from the yard. Yes, I may have jumped over the white fence like a flipping ninja but come on! If Jackie Chan can do it, why the hell can’t I?" Jimmy ranted, as he shoved another fork full of pasta into his mouth.

“Jimmy, chew and swallow. I cooked it, I definitely do not need to see this food again,” I laughed as he tried to lick off a spot of sauce that was on his cheek—failing miserably I might add. Taking a napkin, I dipped it into my water glass and wiped the red goop off his cheek.
“Thanks Ma, now I have to scrub your cooties off me,” he said cheekily.

Mock-glaring at him, I said jokingly, “James Owen! Now you have to do all the dishes as punishment for talking to your mother like that, and no cartoons for the rest of the week!”

Shooting me a flabbergasted look, Jimmy jumped up from his seat and stalked off towards my bedroom before jumping face first onto my bed and whining about how unfair I was. Shaking my head while chuckling, I cleared off the table and did the dishes before putting the leftovers neatly in the fridge.

Cautiously I made my way towards my bedroom. The door was now shut and I heard faint voices. Confused, my eyebrows scrunched up. Slowly I opened the door and saw Jimmy snuggled under my covers and my television on very quietly. He looked extremely paranoid as he laid there. I didn’t understand why, well that is until I took another glance at the television which played his favorite movie: Home Alone.

Pushing the door fully open, I watched as Jimmy shot up from the bed and hurriedly tried to turn of the television, but failing horribly. “Jimmy you really are a five-year-old boy in a twenty-seven-year-old’s body,” I said while shaking my head is false disappointment.

All of a sudden I heard a familiar car engine come down the road and my heart felt a small tug.

When someone has passed it’s as if you see them everywhere: you see them when you’re getting the mail in a passing car; you see them as you’re washing the dishes in the reflection of the window; as the television is playing in the living room you can almost hear their voice and it’s truly maddening. And you know it’s not real…you know they’re dead but you just can’t help but hope that it truly is them, and that’s what I did despite Jimmy’s efforts to stop me.

Throwing open the door, my eyes searched for what my brain knew wasn’t going to be waiting outside the door. My heart seemed to lurch from my chest to the floor in a matter of seconds. I knew it was too good to be true; I saw them lower his body myself and yet I still thought he was going to come waltzing through the front door. Sighing sadly, I quickly closed the door and made sure to lock it before pressing my back up against it and sliding to the floor letting the tears that I held back free. Before I knew it, a pair of lanky arms wrapped around mecomfortingly, and the owner of them said softly: “Babydoll, I’m so sorry you have to go through this…If I could take away your pain or bring him back you know I would in a heartbeat. I’m so sorry, Mia.”

I didn’t cry loudly, or scream; I didn’t curse at the skies, or break everything in my house. No, I just hugged Jimmy back and didn’t say a word because I know I’ll be okay—I just know it. I just need to breathe and take life one day at a time.