Sometimes I wonder if I'm broken. If my normal meter is off. This past weekend the Marvelous Miss M came up for a Christmas party. I had a wonderful time hanging out with her. Watching the little gifts interact with her. There was tons of laughter, tons of wine and blissful happiness like there always is when she's around.
Then, after the little gifts were in bed, and my husband was off sampling beers at a friends, in the middle of my kitchen, she dropped the bomb. It was cancer. I knew there was something, but I was giving her the space to tell me in her own way. Breast cancer, stage 2. I hugged her, that was my first reaction, then tried to ask questions and let her tell the story. The Queen of Irony proceeded to tell me who knew, and who was stepping up to help. We talked all night, I sobered up VERY quickly at the news, and simply listened as she talked. Quiet tears rolled down her cheeks every once in a while.
I listened, I wondered what I could do to help. For some reason, and I'm not sure if it's denial or faith, but I'm not scared. I KNOW she's going to pull through this. I know she'll be at my wedding reception next year, drinking with FCW and running interference with my mother. I know she'll spend weekends with us through the years. She'll see the boys go to University and get married themselves.
She's one year older than me, she's one of my favourite people in the world. She's helped me become the person I am today, and come hell or high water, I'm going to do whatever I can to help her through this.
No comments:
Post a Comment