Warning: Unfiltered

 

So I came here a couple times since my last post with the intention to write. To write about another lovely weekend, the necessary return of my morning walk, the absolute cuteness of my 4 month old kittens, but I just couldn't find the words to wax on. There's some pretty heavy shit going on right now and it's clogging my energy. In the shower this morning, I made peace with the fact that the only way out is through. The way I get through is to write. It's what helps me make sense of things.

I've spent most of this summer unsettled. Low level anxiety has been thrumming just below the surface continuously. The causes vary. Vary in origin and severity. There are those vital parts of life that cause stress and then there is quite simply life itself. It's fragility, it's fleetingness, it's fucking unfairness. There I said it. Life isn't fair.

Yesterday I was texting with girlfriends making plans for our Windmill Beach weekend and then we got the response from the guest of honor that she may not be well enough to come. Fucking cancer! God I felt like a heel for carrying on about plans and for getting excited about sharing the Lake Michigan magic with my fristers. I imagined a relaxing weekend spent mostly on the beach. Kayaks in the morning, beach walks midday and cocktails at gloaming. I knew the weekend would have it's sad moments because treatment is not going as hoped for, but still holding onto hope. And now we know conventional treatment has been exhausted.

I remember when my mom was told that there was nothing more that could be done. You know it's coming although you're still praying for divine intervention, and yet it still feels like a sucker punch. It's that unthought known. You refuse to go there because it's too dangerous, but deep down you know. My mom left the hospital on that shitty day and lived for 5 long short more weeks. There's really no way to share the way it feels to wait for someone you love to die. To know death is coming, to face it, accept it and let go. Unless you have been through losing someone to a terminal illness, it's impossible to fathom the severity of shock, loneliness and devastation. I was numb and yet I felt everything. And I cannot even fathom what my mom was going through.

No, this strong, brave friend...she's not giving up. There's hope for clinical trials and we'll certainly welcome a miracle, but I don't know what to do with her admission that she only wishes she had a little more time to do a few more things. I'm sorry, but that doesn't sound like too much to ask for.