Last week, I sat in the doctor's office with Emily, seeing another Crohn's specialist and answering those "first visit" questions. He asked when she began a certain medication, and at first, neither one of us could remember, thinking it was in early 2016. He looked oddly at us, we had answered all his other questions with specific dates and information, never hesitating but suddenly, both of us drew a blank. I had to explain; the same old explanation we've been giving for 547 days (1 year, 5 months, 29 days): "in July 2016, my husband, her father, passed away and 2016 is really a blur". I wonder how many times in the past year and a half we've had to say that sentence? How many times have we heard the odd "I'm sorry" and felt that weird silence that immediately accompanies the I'm sorry? More times than I can count, I assure you.
When we finally came up with the date, October 2015, Emily said "I remember, it was before, Dad and Chelsey took me to my first infusion". Suddenly, I felt a pang, the word before stinging like an old love song. Before the world went dark. Before our heart's broke. Before life stopped. Before the end. Time is now measured in before and after. Each day, Ryan, Emily and I inevitably refer to time as just that; before and after. When did we buy that vacuum cleaner, oh, before. When is the last time you talked to them, oh right after. We don't mean to measure time like that but it seems our brains have decided to that's how it will be from this point forward; before and after.
Before, Trouper went to her doctor appointments and sat with her on infusion days. After, I try my best to go with her and no more infusions, they didn't work. Before, she would go to lunch with her Dad and usually, he would buy her something to make her feel better, even when she was 20 years old. After, we both rush off to work, always too busy for lunch and a treat.
I miss Trouper all the time, in really ordinary situations but now, I understand how Emily misses him and one of the specific voids he left in her life. While I was busy worrying about him, and navigating his health issues, he was busy navigating hers. She was diagnosed the summer after her freshman year of college and by then, he was over a year into his own medical crisis. That allowed him time to sit at the hospital, go to her doctor appointments and hold her hand. I'm not saying I wasn't there but Troup and Emily shared something not many people will ever share; chronic illness. Even before they were unbelievably close and shared much more than illness. They have the same happy disposition, same sense of humor and people always seem to gravitate to the them. They love cartoons and for the rest of time, the Minions will remind her of her Dad. Ryan and I often got thrown aside, or outvoted, when the two of them teamed up. More than once I mentioned our household was us vs. them but I was assured that wasn't the case even though deep down I knew it was. I'm not mad, both kids got plenty of his marvelous, and not so marvelous, traits. Ryan knows music and movies like the back of his hand, just like his Dad. They would exchange info on new bands and music on a daily basis. They shared a love of odd and foreign food and more than once would be running out the door, and say "we didn't invite you because we are going to have......" and it was some food I wouldn't dare eat. Ryan also inherited Troup's moodiness, well both kids did, and I can look at Ryan, just like I could look at Troup, and know not to bother him. Emily and Troup shared a love of naps and sleeping late. They would stay up all night, finally going to bed at 6am and sleep till 6pm. Even now, even AFTER, these traits are still prevalent and I've learned that this is who they are and that's the legacy of being Troup's kids.
So today, as I pondered the bad weather, I thought "before, when there was ice on the ground, my biggest concern was making sure Troup had batteries" and again, felt that pang as I whispered before. Before and after, the yin and yang of my life.
