A Smile to Remember by Charles Bukowski
We had goldfish and they circled around and around
in the bowl on the table near the heavy drapes
covering the picture window and
my mother, always smiling, wanting us all
to be happy, told me, "Be happy Henry!"
And she was right: It's better to be happy if you
can.
But my father continued to beat her and me several times a week while
raging inside his 6-foot-two frame because he couldn't
understand what was attacking him from within.

My mother, poor fish,
wanting to be happy, beaten two or three times a
week, telling me to be happy: "Henry, smile!
Why don't you ever smile?"

And then she would smile, to show me how, and it was the
saddest smile I ever saw.

One day the goldfish died, all five of them,
they floated on the water, on their sides, their
eyes still open,
and when my father got home, he threw them to the cat
there on the kitchen floor and we watched as my mother
smiled.

Dear friends,

I'm interrupting our regular schedule to bring you an important announcement:

Some of you have recently shared posts about the current (and seemingly never-ending) situation in Syria, expressing anger about the lack of attention it gets; outraged at how easy it is to scroll past those Facebook posts and return to our own lives while hundreds of people continue to suffer every day, faced with death as they try to maintain a life as normal as possible amid the airstrikes and shoot-outs and whole buildings collapsing around them, or as they attempt to reach a place, where -- even though it is strange and unfamiliar and scary -- at least it may be safe.

I understand that frustration. The unbelievable injustices these people are forced to endure is unfair; they are mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, daughters and sons just like us and our loved ones, simply trying to make it to the next day, and it seems like nobody is doing anything about it.

But there are people who care: A special group who risk their lives and do their best to help Syrians in warzones and settlements, as well as many other communities trying to survive conflict, distress, or disaster in all the other places where medical aid is critical but scarce.

I'm proud to say that that is what Doctors without Borders (Artsen zonder Grenzen) does and stands for, an awesome non-profit I've got to know better over the last four months and whose work I'm learning more and more is so, so important. But they cannot provide clean water, conduct emergency surgeries, treat deadly diseases, or do the other great things they do in the areas no one else will go, without support from the public.

And since the Dam tot Damloop is coming up, I've decided to run the 16km between Amsterdam and Zaandam this year to raise funds for Doctors without Borders, so that they can keep helping those in the most serious and immediate danger, in the places it is most urgently needed. I've pledged €350 (or €22 per km), which we should be able to reach if each of you contributes even €1. :)

So, if the state of the world right now upsets you and you want to do something about it, here is your chance to make a difference -- or if you just want to support me as I try to pick up running again after doing nothing for 3 years. :p

My donation page: https://www.actiezondergrenzen.nl/actie/sue-anne_coventry?locale=en

Donation page is in Dutch because Netherlands... But I can help translate if it gets confusing (e.g., Doneer nu = Donate now). There's an English version now. :) And please get in touch if you'd like to contribute but can't use the options on the page.

Thanks, homies!

Unfortunately, the weird year didn't stop at the last post.

Part Three
On the 25th of August, I woke up at about 7 in the morning to multiple missed calls from my dad's number and a text message from my brother saying I should contact dad because he's trying to reach me. I was just about to listen to the voicemails he'd left when his number showed up on the screen. It was my stepmother, who was driving my dad home from the hospital, while he vomited in the background. She was calling to let me know that dad had been very sick for a couple of weeks (vomiting, dizziness, wobbly legs) with what the doctors first thought was a double ear infection but have just discovered was a tumour on his cerebellum. Scans also showed a lesion on his colon, which they weren't sure was related, but yes the tumour is cancerous and no we don't know what's going to happen.

Tears started pouring as soon as I hung up, and didn't stop for 2 hours. It was a work day, so Joost was making breakfast and came to ask what I wanted to eat but changed his question to "Is everything all right?" No. Everything was not all right, and I couldn't get the words past the lump in my throat to explain why, but he held me while I cried my eyes out and that was nice.

I continued getting ready for work, all while still sobbing (because the 2 hours weren't up yet): Somehow managed to get dressed, wash my face, and eat my muesli through tears before Joost, sitting across from me, said, "You don't have to listen to me or anything... but you don't really look like you're in shape to go to work right now." And yeah, okay, he was right: My eyes were swollen and red, and it felt like the tears would never stop (45-minute mark now).

They eventually did though, and I'm glad I had that voice to listen to and got to sit in my puddle of tears that day as I tried to figure out all the weird feelings I was failing to juggle. I went out, but didn't really tell people about it, because how do you explain that you're leaving the party early because you have to catch a last minute flight to spend time with your father who suddenly has cancer?

So that day was pretty shitty, and there were still so many uncertainties about everything at that point. Nobody knew what the next steps were or how bad the cancer was or what it meant, and we were scared. My dad describes this stage as the "AHHH I'M GOING TO DIE" phase, when he'd just been told he has cancer and was freaking out. Now he's in the "Nah, I'm gonna die of old age, not cancer; I've decided" phase, which is a lot better. :)

My dad had surgery to remove the tumour on his brain exactly one week after the call, and the doctors confirmed that the lesion on his colon was also cancerous. They were able to remove all of the visible tumour, but were pretty surprised to discover that it was metastasis (I know all the cancer lingo now!) -- which means the small growth on his colon (of which he wasn't experiencing any symptoms) was actually the original cancer that had spread to the brain. That's weird in cancer world because colon cancer is usually diagnosed after first showing signs of problems with the original first, not the secondary one.

One day later, I was on a 32-hour journey from Amsterdam to New Zealand (actually the quickest route), where I stayed for four weeks. Just enough time to see him recover from the brain operation, catch and get better from a painful chest infection, as well as go into and come out of surgery on his colon (also a successful extraction, by the way). But because he does have stage four cancer that spread from his colon all the way to his brain, it's likely he has cancer cells throughout his body that haven't grown enough to show up on scans, so he does have to undergo chemotherapy (one every three weeks: he's now done seven doses, and there hasn't been any signs of anymore strange growths, so his last one should be in 11 days!) and then radiotherapy for his brain.

So you know, it was horrible for a while, but things are looking up, and this year is just going to be all about good things. :)

Everything will be all right.

So...

Where was I?
Part Two
In May, my sister was in hospital and her sick one-year-old went missing for eight hours, without diapers, food or medication. I won't go into details, but this was the start of a life-changing journey to salvation.

After years of of mistreatment that got progressively worse, she made the decision to leave her abusive marriage. She took the kids out of that troubled house and moved in with my mum while she sorted out the paperwork and proof necessary for a divorce trial as a muslim woman, all while trying her best to maintain as safe, happy, healthy, and stable an environment as possible for the children. This included fighting for and securing a restraining order (which was a very long and painful process in itself).

It was a long time coming, and I'm very proud of her for the steps she's taken so far and for coming to these difficult conclusions. It's been tough watching her go through everything and not being able to make any real difference. And this is only from the sidelines, and only from my perspective of things I knew about.

Some people wonder how a person can stay in an abusive relationship, and they question why the victim didn't leave (sooner). But that is truly a simplistic view of an extremely complex situation. When someone you love and who you think loves you repeatedly tells you year after year after year how worthless you are and how alone you would be without them, somewhere along the line, you start to believe their words. Of course you accept his apologies and his promises that it won't happen again. You have to believe it's true. After all, you fell in love with a charming, caring guy and he's not always this bad. He never means what he says or does when he's like that; he just has a short temper. It's all your fault anyway, for being so worthless. But if you're patient and you keep supporting him, he'll one day see the error in his ways and start being a better man. He slowly pushes you away from your friends and family until you're more and more isolated from the people who care about you and have no one else to turn to.

Then it gets difficult to break away from that poisonous mindset and pick up the pieces that he's been chipping away from you after all this time.

My beautiful sister has not had it easy. She's been through so much (too much), and I'm really glad she's making it out the other side a stronger, more self-aware superwoman. She deserves her happiness, and it's about time the weight on her shoulders that she's been carrying for too long is given to the person it belongs to: Her piece-of-shit soon-to-be-ex-husband. :)

She has started to speak out against abusive relationships, and I think she has an important message. If you find yourself in a similar situation, please know that it's okay to walk away. It's never too late to seek help, and there are always people who will hear you (including me, if you want). Any kind of relationship that makes you feel horrible is probably not worth it. Look out for yourself. You matter more.