This is the last blog post I will ever write, and probably the absolutely only one without any profanity- so let’s start off with me saying you’re welcome. Now let me say what I should have started by saying- thank you. Thank you for the breakfast you’ve made me every morning since I got sick, thank you for being entirely strong, thank you for inspiring me every day, thank you for giving me life twice. Most kids only have their mother do that for them once.
2013 wasn’t an easy year for me. Team Joshi really got the shit kicked out of them. But you were always there to help me bounce back, you humoured me as I travelled half way around the world doing the things I normally do, which included falling in love often, eating delicious food and generally getting into trouble. You never let your fears for me invade our conversation even when things were unimaginably scary for you. I am not an easy son to have. I am stubborn, and principally only concerned with my own opinion. I know that I’ve lived a life that has challenged many of your values in the name of the radical freedom I believe all human beings are gifted and burdened by. Like most things- I’m sorry for that, but as you know I’m unwilling to change.
I once told you I was haunted by how much I took up space in our families life. How everything seems to just be about me, how I felt like a tremendous emotional and economic burden. And you told me to shut the hell up, that as family we face everything together, that there was nothing I could have done to keep the events which happened from happening. And I let go of my guilt at that moment and I’ve never looked back.
There are lots of people in the world that others look up to. To me they’re all a bunch of phonies. Nothing has seemed more significant to me than the way you’ve lived your life since your retirement. I know our world places a premium on work, and change and blah blah. It’s all crap Mom, the real secret is what you showed me- a life where every action is made with love. It never failed to reach me that I’ve spent this time dealing with my illness and people call me an inspiration now, when truly it was me just reflecting you, the way a mirror reflect light. They see me, and they read me say “this is fucking bullshit” and they loved me for it, but you were the one who when I said the words aloud told me “Yeah it is. And it’s okay for you to be angry”.
It’s okay. It’s finally fucking okay. The one thing I wasn’t okay with before I was diagnosed was the possibility that I could die and not be there for you and Dad as you aged. I remember when I was 16 you gave me Robert Munsch’s “I’ll love you forever” and I swore in my bed that night that I’d fucking die before I’d give up on the family. Then I guess there was the real possibility that I actually could have, and that was just fucking monkey balls. Anyways, we’ve just suffered through this goddam thing and oh shit I’m cursing and I really shouldn’t, so um, sorry, but thank God its finally fucking over. I don’t care that we suffered, I don’t care that it was bad, we got through it, it’s done Mom. Let’s just having a glass of wine and head out to dinner. Better yet let’s just cab it.
Thanks so much and I Love you and Happy Birthday