Random thoughts

I am now on a committee thats task is finding a fitting memorial for Geoff.  My best idea so far has been to plant a pumpkin patch, but it's very impermanent.

The Dykstras had a flood at their house.  Geoff's mom was so glad that none of his stuff got damaged.

I still haven't been to his grave.  The time hasn't been right yet, but I do have the leaves ready for when I do.

Time Turner: Visitation/ Geoff's body

We now turn the clocks back almost two months to the visitation.

My biggest worry was that there was going to be an open coffin.  I needed to not see Geoff in death.  It was so important to me to preserve the memories of him being alive, and not him lying cold in a wooden box.

There were so many people there.  The line went through the funeral chapel, down the hall around a corner through a conference room and into the room where Geoff's parents were. Infact, there were so many people I thought there might be two visitations going on at the same time.  Nope.

I cried so much watching the pictures on the big screen TV.  Every single pic had Geoff with a ridiculous face.  It's true.  His dad said that he had problems finding a pic of Geoff with a normal smile on.  The one they eventually used for the obituary was a cropped pic... the only pic I saw that day of Geoff smiling normally.  However, the un-cropped version showed the true side of Geoff... he was holding up a T-Shirt which had his photo on it.  In the photo, he was literally mauling a hamburger, and little bits were flying everywhere.  Even pics that looked slightly normal had something funny, like the one with the banana sticker on his cheek of the pink bow from a present.

When I finally made it to the front the line, my legs almost gave out on me, for there at the front of the line rested the cold empty body of Geoffrey John Dykstra.

The rest becomes a blur with only some sharp memories: seeing the pics of him in the hospital, breaking down in the arms of an aunt, trying not to cry in front of his parents, and stroking Geoff's cold, white, swollen hand.  Brushing the hair off his forehead.  Hugging his sister.  

One other thing made the night beautiful.  It was seeing a picture of Geoff back in grade three hugging his birthday present: the Beanie Baby named Stripes that looked exactly like Harry Potter.  It brought so many memories I had forgotten crashing in like a wave.

Yellow

I've started a project to take my mind off some of the junk I'm going through.

Geoff and I always liked the same colours.  Me, my favourite colour has always been yellow.  It's been yellow even before I can remember it being yellow.  Geoff always fluctuated between yellow and orange.  When we were little kids it was yellow, but then he went into his orange phase, and I remember us having a friendly argument about it around, I dunno, grade six or something.  He love undefiled pumpkins because of their lovely orange roundness.  However, he came over to the light side again before his death, and joked about being buried in a yellow tux.  To honour that, a yellow tie was around his neck in the coffin.

When I heard that a bunch of people have taken pumpkins up to his grave, I realized that I wanted/needed to do something too.  I haven't been up to going there yet.  So I decided that the time was soon, and that I wanted to give Geoff a gift.  That gift is yellow.

I have been out collecting yellow leaves from every tree I've come across.  Shiny yellow maple, golden yellow birch, orange-yellow, pale yellow, matte yellow, gleaming yellow.  I'm going to take a couple garbage bags up and spread them on his grave so that his will be a glowing yellow island in the dark.

Breakdown

Sorry I haven't written anything. Maybe I will soon. It was just too raw and hurried then. I couldn't put down what I felt.

So, we now jump forward almost a month since the death of Geoffrey Dykstra.
Why is it that I can't stand church? Several reasons.
Church brings back the rawness and the hurt. Songs about God and love, they hurt. The Prayer Request list in Youth School, that hurts too. Reading the Bible: don't even get me started.
The people there are so clingy. I have the "cling-ons" eight year olds that love me to death and actually fight to be the one that holds my hand. AKA: no breathing room. My friends are clingy too. What if I don't want to walk arm in arm? I need my space! It doesn't help that all of them except one have never had any real tragedy in their life. Today's lesson was on the "Storms of Life." The teacher asked us if any of us had had any real storms. No one had.
I'm tired of the kind comments. My mom explaining the situation to people just made me break down. Can you believe some one actually told me that "He's in a better place." TELL ME SOMETHING I DON'T KNOW! Try not to use the carbon copy answers used in situations like this. The only one I think I could talk to would be my minister, and he was in the middle of a crowded room, and there's no way I was going to walk through that room with the tears all over y face. I would get too many hugs and too many looks of sympathy. Or pity. Whatever.
The last thing is that I don't want to be happy. They asked me to go to music practice after, but I couldn't. I didn't go back to church after youth school. I said I had to go to the bathroom, and went outside. To get out of music practice, I just said I had to go home and ran upstairs and started crying. My mom found me, we talked things out a bit, and we left.

So much for church. I'm angry.

Aftermath

Visitation tomorrow.  How am I going to get through it?

Shock

Geoffrey Dykstra

July 8, 1993~August 24, 2008

Newish development

G can't come home.  (That's what I'm going to call him... a nickname from way back when we had out own branch of VFD.)  He's at SickKids in Toronto, and they thought that he would come home after they gave him stuff for the pain.  Not anymore.  He's staying. Apparently he finds it really hard to breathe.

This whole situation has changed now.  Before I was worried that I wasn't going to be able to spend enough time with him when he got home... now I'm worried if I'll get to see him one last time.

I feel sick to my stomach with worry.

I just want to give a shout-out to all the staff at SickKids, and especially in the cancer ward, to thank them for being miracles in the lives of so many teens and kids.  Especially on the behalf of G.  And D, who had cystic fibrosis and died this June.  We miss you, girly.)

Diagnosis

The answer to all our fears is simple.

1.) Yes, it's cancer

2.) It's extremely aggressive

3.) It has spread to his bones

4.) It's non-treatable

5.) He has two months

So, in short, he has extremely aggressive, non-treatable bone cancer and has two months to live.

This can't be happening. 

It never ends... (from other blog, scribbles from Radish)

My friend has a probable diagnosis of cancer.

They don't know for sure, but he does have a massive tumour on his shoulder, and his body has been acting all weird all of a sudden.  They think that it might be an extremely aggressive kind of cancer.

I don't understand this.

I haven't done much ranting at God yet, but I'm sure I will, especially if it does turn out to be a huge, cancerous, aggressive tumour.  Oh great, I'm starting to cry again.  He's only fifteen!  He doesn't deserve this, actually, he's one of the last people in the world that deserves it.  He is the most hilarious, sarcastic, goofy,  and sweetest guy ever (a combination that is not always the best one, but is brilliant when it comes to him.)  He was one of my best friends in elementary school and made life bearable for me in grade five.

It just goes and goes and goes... the Year of the Cancer.  Three people I know have died from it, and two people (or will be two when the diagnosis is firm) have been diagnosed with an extremely aggressive kind.  My dad's best friend, a kid at my youth-group's dad, and a coach from my Orchestra have all passed away.  My next door neighbour and family friend for as long as I can remember has cancer throughout her whole body.  And now this...

Not to mention my Nana nearly dying in February and my oldest friend's best friend dying from cystic fibrosis...

It's too much.

We find out tomorrow.