Bear with me.

Or I suppose it could be "bare with me." (hiyo!)

So, I'm reading this book: "The Loss That is Forever: The Lifelong Impact of the Early Death of a Mother or Father" (all of you know my mom died 15 yrs ago, when I was 14, yes? yes.) and some of it is pretty straight forward: anyone 18yrs old and younger doesn't really have the vocabulary or life experience to articulate what they're going through. As a result, they develop personal mythologies to help them deal with it as they grow into adults.

One of mine is pretty gosh-darn unhealthy. My dad was an overweight, inactive 2.5-pack-a-day smoker for 25 years. My mom was an avid water-drinker, bicyclist and registered nurse who, although she surely had a "mom's" physique, wasn't overweight per se. Who died of mysterious illness that was cancerous that was most likely ovarian?

Well, the person who had ovaries.

To this end, I've rationalized any number of my own unhealthy behaviors, i.e. smoking. Although I've never been a daily smoker (well, my first week of college, perhaps. when I first got drunk, first got high, etc), I can't begin to estimate the number of times I've thought to myself: "well, my dad smoked for years but my mom died young. you just never know."

My father shattered this personal mythology last year when he told me that my mom never saw an OBGYN after she had kids. I was dumbfounded.

"How? What? You're kidding."

"Never."

"How is that possible? She was a NURSE!"

"We were very private."

"Dad, there's private and there's ridiculous. Women are supposed to get checked out once a year after they're 18. It's a rule of being female."

"Well, we didn't do that."

"So, how do you know that her illness was ovarian cancer?"

"She had a lot of discomfort down there."

"And she still didn't see a gyno?"

"No."

Thus, my mythology shattered, my perception shifted. If what my dad is saying is true, my mom developed an illness that not only was preventable, but might have been utterly treatable once diagnosed, HAD IT BEEN DIAGNOSED. My mother's mysterous death somewhat demystified, my adult brain attempts to make sense of the senseless. When I was 14, Mom was dead and I treaded water from there. Now I'm 29, Mom's dead and I'm struggling to make sense of myself, my decisions, my choice of potential mates (theories abound) and to top it all off, I'm frustrated with my father and my dead mother for decisions they began making over 30 years ago.