This is
where I am at right now. It is not a fun
place to be. Cancer; it sucks, we all
know it sucks. You know else, sucks, not
knowing if someone you love is dead or alive.
I’ve had three hard cancer hits in the past few years.
Nicole –
beautiful and brilliant mother of two.
Close to my age, her boys are close to my boys’ age. Bile duct cancer (green ribbon). When she was diagnosed, we all followed her
journey. Watched her battle like a
warrior. Watched her fight like her life
depended on it, because it did. She lost
that battle and I felt a feeling of sorrow I’d never felt before. Sad for her children who lost her. Sad for her husband who loved her so
much. Sad for myself, and our group of
friends, who had that beautiful light extinguished. Sometimes a memory will come up on Facebook
with her and I’m finally getting to that place where I remember her with love,
instead of just the overwhelming sadness.
I miss her, I will always miss her, but I can mourn her properly.
Michaela
– a beautiful and tortured soul who stood by my side as I went through one of
the ugliest and hardest parts of my life.
While I tore my life to pieces, she always loved me for who I was, not
who I tried to be. With that help, I
learned to love myself the same way. She
was forever off-balance, a wanderer (but not always lost), often uncomfortable
in her how skin and constantly struggled to find her place in this world. Breast Cancer (pink ribbon) of all
things. The irony was beyond
painful. I remember when she sat on the
couch with me and cried as she told me. Again,
I believed she would prevail and my only
real concern was that she would choose not to fight. I was so grateful when
she chose chemo. I was certain she would
be fine. Caught early enough it can be
treated. My former mother in law won her
battle, my former sister in law too. She was younger and stronger than both of
them. She was my maid of honour at my
wedding, she was my voice of reason often and when all else failed, my soft
place to land. I haven’t heard from her
in almost a year. She no longer responds
to my texts. I’ve searched her name for
obituaries but haven’t found it. She’s
in Schrodinger’s box and it hurts.
Michael –
a dear friend in a faraway land. We have
had a long and close friendship for over 15 years. I remember the day my youngest was born, he
called me while I was in labour. I’d
been in the hospital for over a week and he’d call me daily to keep me
company. I told him we would always be
friends. He’d know what University my
child would go to. I watched both of his
children get married, the birth of his first grandchild. I know the struggles with his wife, but he
loved her dearly and would never leave her.
We watch me struggle with being me.
He supported me through my divorce and was thrilled that I found the
love of my life and cheered me along all the way. He’d always worked so hard for everything he
had. Finally, he was at a place in his
life where he could enjoy his properties, his family, his life. Brain cancer (grey ribbon). He was given 3-6 months and that was 15
months ago. We live on different
continents. I’d tried to keep up the
cheerful, chatty emails but the responses got fewer and fewer over the
months. On Christmas day I reached out
with a Merry Christmas note and got a terse note back that he was in the hospital. I haven’t heard anything
since. I follow his Facebook page for
news. I follow his family’s pages for
news. A few brief, sad posts last week
that make me worried he’s come to his end, and I’ll never know. He’s in Schrodinger’s box too, and it really
hurts.
In both
cases, I don’t want to reach out to the families. I don’t want to bring up any more pain than
they’re already going through. I’m not
important in these situations, they are and I respect that the most. Knowing
where the end gives you a point to begin to heal and move on. Maybe one day I’ll get closure, but until
then, I’ll run my fingers along the tattoo on my left arm I got for the three
of them.
Enjoy yourself, it’s later than you think.
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