One of the benefits of a pizza delivery job is having the opportunity to share with others who might not be able to enjoy pizza when things are tight, or who haven't had a meal in a good while. Last night I made a run to OKC to take a hot pizza to my friend, Cooper, after work and make sure he was doing okay. (I often wonder if I get this 'drive' from my grandmother, who, during WWII in Germany used to ride her bike to the nearby villages, collecting food donations to take to the workers who were prisoners of war at the factory in the town where she lived.) Cooper had only eaten rice krispies in a couple of days, so he was grateful for the meal!
The rest of the night after I got home was an alternating blur of writing, sleeping, waking, texting, and cutting from scene to scene in my brain's pool of random thoughts and dreams, friends in flux and various musical selections. Two hours of subversive sleep was all I could manage to squeeze out of the ordeal... by 7am Monday morning the vibes of the day began again (from my cell phone)...then, oh no, let's go...
Picking up Cooper in OKC and caffeine seemed to be the first order of the day. Sunglasses shielding me from the morning's whiteness, I asked the ominous voice at the drive-thru speaker for 4 creams and 10 sugars (for 2 coffees), thinking they would throw them into a bag and we'd add them ourselves on the way, but when we got to the window, they had already added them, all four creams and ten sugars per cup! The sun was bright, after all! So, what the hell...
Cooper had been awake all night as well, I know this because he kept me updated with texts. He also wanted to get an early start on the day and make it to a pawn shop somewhere before he had to go to work. (Cooper, work? yeah, right! As long as there is socializing and music involved, net-working is his strong point.) As a musician and front man for a band, it is understandable that he lives for his art. The urgent errand had to do with his cat, who was with him since he was five years old, who is dying. She can't eat or keep her food down. He needed a way to get her some help, and he had been wanting to get rid of one of his sound systems.
The sound system in question was a constant reminder of the loss of his father this Christmas, who had succumbed to lung and liver cancer over the last year and a half. Cooper was just turning 20 when he found out, the week of his birthday, that his father was dying of cancer. It had been a difficult relationship between them from the start, but they were able to make some progress occasionally, however the progress of the disease was more relentless and not preventable.
On our way back to his friend's house, we drove through Edmond talking about our most recent political and world concerns, music, and lyrics as usual. But, this morning, on every main cross-street corner in town, there were groups of high school girls dressed in pink-everything for "swine week," to raise funds for the community to provide aid for children with cancer. The sun was glaring brighter as we drove wide-eyed and surreal-ly wakeful after no sleep the night before. As we passed the third group of cheerful, enthusiastic fund-raisers, Cooper, who hasn't said much about the loss of his father so far, said, "This sucks, someone should tell them... there isn't a cure. I saw what cancer does to a person first-hand. For the last year I saw my father's mind break, who had always been a very strong person. I watched his body deteriorate to skin and bone until he could no longer breathe. In a particular way that Cooper brings words together, sharply barbed and forceful, as if breaking into the depths of your soul and uprooting words like mandrakes, they somehow shriek from the marrow of your heart and you feel the agony of his pain as he expresses his words with sighs that can be felt like the back-lashing wind after a bomb detonates, another point that makes him a good motivational or political speaker and vocalist within his music genre. He said, "Anger is a Disease, passed from Generation to generation, till you don't even know why you are angry" (percussion, percussion, percussion). "Cancer is a kind of leprosy that eats away at your insides, a kind of Symptom that grabs hold of its Victim and drains them like a plant that is embedded, which sucks the life right out of you" (Roaaaaarrrrr-rrrrrrr! as your breath was just sucked away). He should be called "soul reaver." If you hear his music, you can hear the shrieks and roars he makes for real, which sound like a hawk falling from the sky, fatally-wounded by an arrow. I tried not to show my tears over his agonizing loss, knowing it does not go well with strong coffee, bloodshot eyes, and full sunlight. But, even wearing sunglasses, my nose always turns red when I tear up, so it couldn't help being noticed.
After I thought about the day, I considered the idea of having a special day to remember those who have lost a loved one to cancer, especially when they face much the same reminders with campaigning and fund-raising during their times of loss. Maybe it could be called "Blue Monday," with a blue ribbon to remember their loved one or friend.
For one thing, a blue ribbon is awarded for first place in certain athletic or competitive endeavors. I believe a battle with cancer would qualify as one of the most competitive and courageous fights to endure.
In the list of awareness ribbons, I didn't see a color that was used for this specific cause, so maybe it is an option, although I haven't had a chance to investigate it thoroughly.
Also, in symbolism, a blue ribbon can signify something of high quality. So, even though the battle with cancer continues, the quality of the lives who have been lost through their battle with cancer could be remembered and valued in this way. It is a reminder not to be afraid to talk to some one about the loss of their loved one; it is a chance for them to remember and their loved one to be remembered. Even speaking the name their loved one can be significant to someone in grief, as well as the comfort of sharing their memories.
Just a thought about my friend's loss on this blue Monday.
Cooper's music: Warped Corpses
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