My brother Murray

This afternoon I was sitting at the bedside of an 87-year-old resident in rehab (following a massive heart attack earlier this month) when she was the one to urge me not to wait another second and to call my mother and get an update on our dog, Murray. What I learned was the worst--he is dying of Leukemia and only expected to a live a few weeks.

Earlier that day, helping this same resident, Wanda, with her paperwork to apply for Medicaid, I told her I just got a call from my mom that our Chocolate Lab, Murray, was just diagnosed with cancer. The day before I just happened to be with Wanda when my mom first called my cell (something she rarely does when she knows I’m at work so I always know it’s something important)  to break the news that something suddenly had gone wrong with Murray, who is my brother and “boyfriend.”

He was acting strange the day before and when my Mom took him into the vet, she said he had a very erratic, all over the place, irregular heartbeat. That was the beginning of the shocking bad news about a pet who, just a month ago when I visited, was in impeccable shape and active as a puppy.

My mom feeds him the very best diet and walks him at a dog park twice a day for at least 45 minutes. She even brushes his teeth every night and gives him his baths herself. She has had Murray since he was given as a puppy by her son-in-law just before her husband died.

For those who know me, they know I still struggle mightily with my sister’s untimely, shocking death two years ago. The sad part is my mom struggles even more, as you would expect.

The sad part right now is knowing how much the two of us, mother and daughter, have relied on Murray to cheer us up.

Here’s an article I found in my files:

Yesterday was the first anniversary of my step-dad's death. My mom is depressed, even though she wouldn't really admit so, and so am I and my sister. We're all lonely. My sister was recently diagnosed with a brain injury by Ohio State University. It's official. It wasn't something she made up in her head, as Wal-Mart would have her believe (she is fighting for a settlement with her former employer).

My mom's close friend that she saw every day at a beautiful, heavily wooded park (only two blocks from my mom's house) where they walked their dogs has moved (as of Oct. 1) to a total different part of town (a 20-minute drive on the expressway). They don't see each other at all really.

My friend in Chicago who I've known since I first moved here in 1990 is moving at the end of November to her hometown of Kansas City. She closed her wedding store, I Do I Do, at the end of October.

Life is lonely and when you know that the people you care about the most, and really your only family, are depressed, it's hard to be happy. It's hard not to feel the constant burden of wanting happiness for them but
not knowing how to help them or yourself.

The big biblical question is, "How do you be happy when you know the person you love the most (in my case it's my mother, who's totally connected with my sister, as they are to each other) is very lonely and suffering?"