Snape, my heart cries.....

By now you've all heard the news about the passing of Alan Rickman. If you didn't know, I'm sorry to be the bearer of such bad news. And it IS just that. Bad, sad news. While I did not know Mr. Rickman personally, he touched my life and the lives of my children so deeply with his portrayal of Severus Snape in the Harry Potter series that I can't help but cry over the news of his death.

He was a huge part of our children's lives. We read the Harry Potter series alongside our children so it's not just like one of OUR contemporaries has gone, but a big part of what shaped our children's childhood is gone as well. Don't get me wrong, I did like David Bowie but I wasn't a super fan, not like my huge love for Duran Duran. I was sad at Bowie's passing, but Alan Rickman's passing has really hit me hard.

When 18 was just 7 years old, we were in the Navy Exchange on Pearl Harbor, HI and she brought me a copy of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, telling me she wanted to read it. I told her to put it back and go see if they had the very first Harry Potter book. It didn't make any sense for an 8 year old to pick up the 6th book in a series when there were 5 others to read first. She put #6 back and found #1, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.  I am not kidding when I tell you that this child absolutely devoured the book. We'd be poolside and would try to get her to put the book down and come into the pool with us and she was having none of it. "Just let me finish this chapter, please. Then I'll come in." I was dumbfounded.

She finished that first book before we left Hawaii. She celebrated her 8th birthday on the plane coming home and when we landed, she wanted to find the second book, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets as soon as it was humanly possible. She was hooked. By the time she finished the second book and started on the third, I had to find out what the hype was about. At that time many of my friends were hooked as well. So I started reading the series and I, too, was addicted. Severus Snape was the character you loved/hated and when we watched the movies, there could be no one better in the role than Alan Rickman.

Yes, he was amazing in so many other roles: he was GENIUS as Hans Gruber in Die Hard,  Harry the flirtatious boss in Love Actually, the alien Alexander Dane in Galaxy Quest and even Ronald Reagan in Lee Daniels' The Butler. But none strike me so much as his portrayal of Snape. I've watched the Harry Potter movies over and over with my children and he is as much a part of their lives as he is mine.

I remember when John Wayne and Elvis died, being so sad for my mom because those were her favorites. And now, losing someone so key in my own children's developmental stages is just as hard. Reading the series gave us common interests, gave us things to talk about, and it brought us together as more than mother and daughter, but as peers working toward a common goal: finishing the books, seeing where JK Rowling was taking us. And knowing where the Snape character ends up, how much he changes, what his true feelings were, as played by Alan Rickman, it just breaks my heart that he's gone.

So RIP, Alan Rickman. Thank you for all the amazing roles you played and all the enjoyment you brought to us. But mostly, thanks for giving my daughters and I something in common. We will never forget you.

Why COPD Can Kiss My Ass....

I never even knew what COPD was until my Mom's diagnosis a few years back. I wish I had never heard of it. It's a vicious, evil diagnosis. And it's slowly killing her.

She's always been a feisty one, my Mom has. Active, slim, always busy, always running from point A to point B. Growing up, she hated driving, so she walked everywhere. Grocery store, bank, 5 & 10, if she had errands to run, she walked there. I remember when I got my drivers license, she pretty much stopped driving and relied on me to take her where she needed to go if it wasn't in walking distance. She was never one to sit still.

A smoker from the age of 13, she has no one to blame but herself. Years and years of smoking have taken a terrible toll on her lungs. She now has 30% lung capacity. Go get a straw out of your pantry. Now put it in your mouth and try to breathe through the straw. Forever. That's how my Mom's COPD is now.

This past weekend I went up to visit with Mom in New Jersey. On Saturday, we walked from her apartment to a little breakfast place about a block from where she lives. When we got back, I took her out grocery shopping, and when we got back from the store, I took her to church. Those 3 tasks completely wiped her out for the day. Thanks, COPD. Thanks for slowly destroying my Mom's life. She struggles to breathe in the hot weather, she struggles to breathe after a trip down the hall to the trash chute in her building. She struggles to breathe when getting into and out of the car. She's on oxygen 24/7/365. She'll miss my daughter's high school graduation because she's paralyzed with the fear that her oxygen will run out and she won't be able to breathe.

COPD, or Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease is an ugly, awful disease and it's slowly taking my Mother away from me, one breath at a time. I don't know how many more Mothers Days we'll have left to celebrate together, but I will cherish every moment I spend with her, every phone call, every precious minute I can get. This disease will eventually take her from me. But my Mom's such a fighter, she won't go easily. She'll struggle, she'll battle, she'll fight to breathe. Until she can't breathe any longer.

I thank God every day that she doesn't have cancer from all the years of smoking. But make no mistake, I hate COPD with a passion, because it's slowly, painfully taking my Mom away from me. So if you are reading this and you are a smoker, for the love of God please stop. The minutes of pleasure you get from smoking now will eventually lead to pain, struggle, suffering for both you and your loved ones down the road.

Happy Mothers Day, Mom. I love you and I wish I could breathe for you. 

Tuesday Tirade.

"Cancer sucks. I wish cancer would get cancer and die."

Those were the words of my 13 year old baby, who lost her Godfather yesterday to cancer. Yes, baby, cancer really does suck. It sucks a lot. I hate cancer. Her Godfather was a very special man. He and his wife of 50+ years are my husband's best friend's parents. They were like second parents to my husband, and when we met and married, they treated me like the daughter they never had. And when my daughters were born, they treated those girls like their own granddaughters, spoiling them (and us) rotten. They were honored when we asked them to be 13's Godparents.

Then, we got a call about 12 or so years ago: Bill had suffered a heart attack and without a heart transplant, he'd most certainly die. My baby wasn't even 3 years old, and we were beside ourselves. Here's a crazy twist of fate that I always say was something that was meant to be: I was very close friends with one of my old customers, Ed, from my casino days in Atlantic City. We had known one another for years, and Ed and his wife were at our wedding, Ed danced with me, he was kind and very generous, and he passed away in June the year after Bill had his heart attack. A month later, on what would have been Ed's birthday, July 10, we got a call that a heart had been found for Bill. Call me crazy, call me whatever you want, but I strongly believe that when Ed died, he went up and had a little heart to heart with God, and he told God that Bill should stick around on Earth for awhile. And Ed found a heart for Bill. Shut up, this is what I believe.

Anyway, Bill had lived on an LVAD for over a year, so the heart transplant surgery was very touch and go, but in the end, Bill survived and we had an extra decade or so with him, thanks to that amazing person who agreed to donate his vital organs. (PSA, if you're not already, please consider being an organ donor)

Flash forward to last Christmas. Bill was diagnosed with that awful, horrible disease. The prognosis was not good. His options were extremely limited. Surgery would not work, his body was not strong enough. Chemo was the best route, but the most physically harmful to his already frail body. Doing nothing was the last option, just letting the cancer take him. Bill decided to go with chemo, but in the end, it did more harm than good, and we lost him yesterday. My baby lost her Godfather, my husband lost his second father, I lost a good friend and the world lost a great man. Kind, generous, funny as hell with a deadpan delivery. Always giving my husband, 'Beeb', a hard time about anything and everything. Bill and I used to love to pick on my husband, and he would just laugh and take it in stride.

So I'm saddened that we've lost such a great friend and I'm mad as hell that cancer has taken yet another person that I love. Yes, baby, cancer does suck. It sucks the joy out of living. It sucks hard. I'm so sorry that he won't ever be here to watch you walk down the aisle, and give your future husband a hard time like he gives your daddy, because we both know he'd do that. I'm sorry he'll never get to meet your own babies, I know he would've loved that. I remember when he held you in his arms when you were a baby, and I'm so sorry that cancer has taken him from us. From you. From his wife Pat, from his sons, Bill, Steve and Greg and from his grandson Billy.

I have to hope that my friend Ed was waiting for Bill at the pearly gates of heaven, and that Bill shook his hand and thanked Ed for giving helping to give him a few extra years with us.

Cancer. It Sucks. A Lot.

I absolutely hate cancer. Okay, okay, I know nobody really likes it. But seriously, cancer is a fucking bitch. Cancer is sneaky. It sneaks in and takes. It takes and takes. Cancer does not discriminate. Cancer takes young and cancer takes old. Cancer takes black, white, red, green, purple and yellow. Cancer takes friends and neighbors without even saying 'sorry'. You can fight cancer and some people, some amazing and wonderfully lucky people, beat that bitch. I worked with a lady in Atlantic City named Annie who successfully beat breast cancer twice. I also lost a close friend to cancer after she won the battle twice. She even told me, she wasn't feeling so lucky the third time around. And she was right. Cancer took her. Cancer left her daughters without a mother and her husband alone to raise those girls on his own.

We are lucky enough to have an amazing man in our lives, 12's Godfather Bill, who was lucky enough to receive a heart transplant some years ago. We have been lucky enough to know this man, and even luckier that we've been given an extension of our time with him. Yet, cancer decided that it would step in and fuck things up. He's been diagnosed with a malignant mass in his intestine. His heart is definitely strong enough to withstand the surgery to remove it, but sadly, his lungs are not. So he gets to play on the chemo-go-round. Lucky him. My best friend from grade school and high school just went through this awful bitch with her husband, whom I love dearly, who always makes me laugh. And he beat it but not without a price. He suffered from neuropathy due to excessive radiation. So he didn't get off scott-free. My friend Lisa has a brother who is currently going through chemo and we're hoping for the best for him. Too many lives touched.

I've had best friends lose loved ones to cancer, I've worked with countless fantastic people in Atlantic City who were taken from us by cancer. I've made some unbelievably wonderful friendships online and suffered with them as they lost their loved ones to this awful disease. And now there is a neighbor who has been hit with this fucking sickness. The father to one of my daughter's best friends, the husband of one of my own dear friends, and it has hit like a Mack truck. He's not 'lucky' enough to ride the chemo-go-round, the disease is too far gone. So now he is at home with his family around him, and they wait for this bitch to take him from them. And I am angry. I'm so angry I could scream. And saddened at this loss. He is funny, very funny, a very quick wit, and I always enjoyed our conversations. And his big black dog Riley will miss him. And that's not fair. Cancer's not fair.

So this blog is for you Howard. I dedicate this blog to you, with the hope that your passing will not be painful to you, but knowing that it will be very painful to all who know you. And I also dedicate it to Monica, who was in my wedding, and I in hers. And to Peggy. And to Jim and Annie who overcame it. And to Bill who is fighting it to the finish. I love you, I love all of you. And I hate cancer.

Please feel free to tell me who YOU'D dedicate this to. Who have you lost? And what would you tell them, if you had one more chance?

UPDATED: My friend and neighbor Howard passed away this afternoon. He will be sadly missed by all who knew him.