Hate thy neighbour?

I am not afraid to admit it, I think my next-door neighbour is insane. She is constantly on my case about something and now that the nicer weather is here she's right on my case about any little thing she can possibly think of (lately it's been parking). I went through these past couple weeks loathing her existence, and in fact felt as though she were put on this earth only to make my life as difficult as possible. After honestly reaching the end of my rope and trying so hard not to let the evilflu out, I did a little soul searching and came up with my theory of it all.

You see, I was crazy neighbour 4 years ago myself. Crazy neighbour has a husband who has come home to die and in a way I can honestly relate to the way she is feeling. Mind you, I never put my neighbour in positions that made them hate my guts, I was a lot younger and I'm a lot cuter (it had to be said).

In ways we were very similar though. The feeling you get when you go to bed every night, not knowing if the person you love the most will wake up with you in the morning or not, if you will find him dead in your living room in a rented hospital bed. The frustration you feel when he sleeps all day long and is up all night after you go to bed. Watching the person you love waste away to 70 pounds right in front of your eyes. The irritation of having nurses, PSWs and palliative care in your house every. single. day...sometimes 2-3 times per day. It is a lot to deal with, I totally understand that. I kind of think that crazy neighbour is not all that crazy after all, I think she's terrified, and that maybe I just didn't see that because we handled the same situation very differently.

I'm not saying I was brave, if anything I was stupid and naive. I honestly didn't think he would die. I wouldn't even accept it until he took his last breath, and even then I thought he would come back, he was just that kind of guy, you know? Those last few weeks before he passed was the most emotionally draining and stressful time of my life. Again, I didn't think he would die so I was never really sad, I was angry. I was angry about the choices he made. I was angry he slept so much. I was angry the time he fell. I was angry when he refused to go to his appointments. Angry when he wouldn't bathe, answer me when I talked to him, when he ignored our son.

We were together, we were not together - face it, we were the Ross and Rachel of cancer. I would go to bed and wake up every hour or so when I wanted to be with him because that was the only time he was awake but I resented him for it because I never understood how you could stay up at night and not be awake during the day.

...and then he died. I remember the next day everybody coming over to discuss funeral arrangements but all I wanted to do was get rid of that hospital bed that took up my entire living room. The hospital bed that showed up in every single picture of our son's first birthday party. Soon after that I got rid of almost all his stuff, keeping only some fishing gear and hats for Mason when he gets older.

I guess what I'm trying to get at here is that everybody deals with things differently, in my case to some people it came off as not caring, but that was not the case at all, in fact I still do care - a lot.

Every case is different, and I explained that to neighbour when she asked me how things happen the other night. I can't pinpoint it to any certain thing, but I just told her that when it is time, she will know. We were very lucky that ours was a peaceful process and I can only hope the same for neighbour.