Hello, my name is Lilithea Marie-Kathrine(Kat-reen) Adasia. I am going on 35 and have the most wonderful partner in my life that has been at my side for 10+ years and counting. I have been in remission from cancer for a little over a year. I am educated. Have an alright family, I mean I can't lie. There are a few apples on this tree we have tried to nudge out of the orchard, but what family doesn't have at least one? Overall, it seems like a great life, but deep in the center is a huge dark void. A black hole, slowly sucking everything into it and I can't find anything to fill it, to plug it, to satisfy its voracious hunger of everything else in my life. I know what caused it, I know what is supposed to be there, but life, as fickle as it is, has chosen to leave my life void of what it needs.
She looked at the clock while having a sip of the hot coffee she bought from the machine in the office. It was disgusting, but it would at least give her enough strength to get through the hours that she had left. Just two more and then Friday would be over. She could only think of what she was going to have for dinner, followed by getting into bed to watch a random show on Netflix—something that would make her forget about the day.
When I was 34, I found out the chances of me having children was very low. It broke my heart into a million pieces.
My brother passed away August 2019 and it wasn't until then that I realized I was broken. While that hurts me to acknowledge it's something I've had to come to terms with and accept. This was the reality that lied beneath.
I lost my father on December 10th, 2018, 14 days before my birthday, and two months and one day after his. I began telling the story the day he was diagnosed with cancer as a means to process the news, and saved it to go back to visit. Before I could work on it the next day, he lost his fight, and it would be ten months before I would be strong enough to complete it (Find Part 1 here).
This will tell the story of his last days.
Cigarette smoke billowed and followed AC drafts from the ceiling above, searing the eyes of children and seniors alike. Whirling electronic sounds escaped the murmuring machines, as teenagers to the next lane appeared to be having the time of their lives—perhaps even the highlight of their lives. We devoured the pitchers of beer, to stomach the onslaught of laughter and those crackling, cacophonous sounds. Each strike, spare, or even gutter ball were announced to the lounge, as if the bowling alley had transformed into an arcade on steroids. Laughter penetrated any reflection of what had transpired two nights ago. Velda, Joshua, and his girlfriend could not help but notice my existential unease—my detachment. In that moment, I realized this could not happen to my family, rather, time and space were illusions—manmade constructs to ease the understanding of physics, to laymen and scholars alike. I felt somewhere—somehow—Ella was with me. I could still smell her locks of hair. I heard her call my name from the back of the alley. She was there. She had never truly left—or so I would not accept.
A couple months after my hysterectomy, a mom at the park casually asked me how many kids I want to have. It was too soon, I had no quippy answer prepared to shrug off the question, and it caught me off guard. I ended up telling her everything that happened to me, and she reciprocated with stories of her own postpartum experiences. I am grateful for sisterhood, motherhood, personhood. Grateful to wear the marks of what it took to bring my children into this world. Grateful to be surrounded by supportive people who make space for me to express my hurt and confusion out loud.
Yesterday was a day I will never forget. My dad had been in and out of the hospital over the last few weeks for having his blood sugar going from dangerously high to plummeting dangerously low as we introduced insulin. It was so hard to get regulated it seemed, and adding to the stress was the fear of every dose of insulin given, he could end up in hypoglycemic shock. I was wearing out. We finally got it regulated, and I felt like I could breathe again.
There are many kinds of losses, from losing a shoe or a phone but in worst cases, a loss is losing someone, maybe a friend through an argument or a death in your family.