Over a meal, a relative asked, “so is everything back to normal?”  I nodded my head resolutely while my son sitting next to me shook his head emphatically and said, “no.”  “What do you mean?”  I asked him.  “It will never be normal again. Things have changed.”

No truer words were spoken over the holiday.  What a wise observer he is.  I ruminated on this for a few days. A simple example: after breaking my wrist, it will never be unbroken again.  It will be healed and usable, thanks to surgery, modern medicine and time, but it will always be the wrist that was once broken.

When your life has been held captive by disease or trauma, the world still continues pressing forward.  It does not pause for you.  So many things you previously worked hard to accomplish have atrophied during that pause.  If you are lucky to be a survivor, you are a remnant of who you were before, but you are also much more than your former self.  You have to rebuild some parts from where you are now and now can take a long time.  Now can be in this instant or it can be several months or years away, depending on your acceptance and actual realization of what is.

For example, now I see how painful it is.  Now I understand (from a mother’s point of view) how it feels to be left behind, excluded, have parts of yourself lost.  “you’re not strong enough to be back doing this yet,” a sympathetic school counselor says.  “you missed out on too much of this class to be back there again, we’ll just put you in a different one”.  So dismissive.  Words thrown around carelessly (to one person), but carefully chosen (to another).  But it is all true.  You missed out, not because you chose to miss out, but it doesn’t matter. The outcome is the same.  You missed out.  Life put you on a different path.  You had to pause for life, but it didn’t pause for you.  Life is a vigorously flowing river.  You have to move where the current takes you, but you can learn to be one with the energy.


Waking Up

19346_1202288097446_6059319_nMy two babes before they were teens…hanging out at the creek on a sunny, winter day.

Having a child who just got cleared of cancer a few days before Thanksgiving gave us the opportunity to be really authentic with each other at events on both sides of the family.  There were honest conversations, there were speeches of gratitude, redemption and an exchange of healing words.  Because you never know when you will have the chance again to revise your words and create a different reality in your life.  Perhaps it takes everything to be nearly burned down to wake us up from living superficially.

Ava took this shot holding a piece of sea glass in Puget Sound, the day before we left to come home in summer, three days before we discovered her tumor. 


cancer, living, time, writing

The C-Word Revisited November 23, 2014 8:28 p.m.

When the cancer journey began, back in August, I posted about the C-word. Amazing friends of ours “bombed” us with love and took the c-words from my post that I wanted to imagine instead of cancer when I thought of Ava and propped them up on sticks coming out of the basket of gifts.  I placed the words in a vase with bamboo that still sits on the kitchen windowsill.

Everyday I would see these words looking back at me and I’d repeat them in my mind, even when I was not feeling them.  Especially when I was not feeling them. Every morning when I’d wake up and go into the kitchen to get the day going, there they would be.  Every night when I found myself glancing out the kitchen window, there they were.  Words that I wanted to write into a reality instead of the one we were confined to at the beginning.

I believe that words are powerful.  What we say reflects how we think and what we think becomes who we are on so many levels.  Choose carefully.  I know I’ve regretted some things I’ve said-we all have.  The beautiful thing is, we have a multitude of opportunities to revise and redeem our words.