Letting go
I guess you could say it's been a LONG year. It's not even over yet. I've known for sometime that I was walking on an emotional tight rope. Repeating to myself daily, not today, this is not the day to let it go. There have been moments, tears in the eyes, lump in the throat. But they have always been swallowed up. We count our blessings everyday in the ways that we are fortunate. We have after all been lucky enough to create the life we want. After two months in a high stress medical environment, away from our children, I came home to a house full of love. The love of our children is obvious in their constant demands, deep snuggles and willingness to pick up their battles with us right where we left off. The family that came and went taking care of our life while gone left their marks too. A costume made, a blower taped together, a chore completed. We came home and life resumed it's normal speed. We had carpool and homework, lessons, dinners. We began the traditions that we do at this time of year. Our thankful tree is full of leaves that speak to the things that bring us joy. Tea is served with cookies everyday. Our TV if off our fireplace is lit. We sit quietly as a family in front of it each night reading aloud. This is where I have broken. This quiet moment where we are as still as we get. The story is simple and rich. It is about love. Losing it, finding it, great loss and great recovery. For the last couple of nights, I sat by that fire with my children and husband and it has come. I have cried every night. Not the big screaming tears I felt in April. Not the frustrated tears that came every so often. Not even the are you kidding me oh hell tears from August. These are quiet letting go tears. Letting go in little pieces. Putting the past six months onto the pages of this book. My children think (because I tell them so) that I am crying because I am tired. That is not entirely untrue. I am tired. So tired.
My husband has a type of cancer that is rare they say. Every time I drop into dark corners and google it, google tells so page after page. At the stage it was discovered it doesn't have a good outcome the pages say. The search reveals darkness. A year from diagnosis is what the pages say. In those pages there are the shots light, "survived disease free", "cured", the doctors will tell you 30-40% chance of cure. Still we've had those talks. I tend to think of my husband as "that guy". The Teflon kind of guy. Things have always been a little sunnier on his side of the street, even though he personally carries a dark cloud with him wherever he goes. I look at him and I think of course this won't get you darling. There is no way.
It isn't strength. People say that, they say "You've been so strong" I don't think that's it. Possibly deeply numb. Possibly fortitude like a castle wall, I've just done my job. I've kept moving. Both necessary movement and ridiculous movement. It really is just like that. I just keep moving. Being still truly at peace still is when it all hits. That I have swallowed so much these last months, that my love is so ill, that I have lost a year to cancer, that I/we are changed.
There is in our yard a grand Ginkgo tree. I was heartbroken to think of missing it's color change while we were in Indiana. That made me cry. That tree waited. In all of it's glory. That made me cry. I imagine it will be like this for sometime. While I let it go little by little. Then we will be "normal" again. The life we knew will return and
I will be able to sit and read aloud without crying.
Posted in: on Thursday, November 10, 2011 at at 8:18 AM
On my computer, in my Mail app, I have a place where I subscribe to all the blogs I want to read. I have a problem though- I subscribe to too many blogs. Every now and again I have to go through and delete some. But I've had yours there forever. In fact, it was the first one. And every time I've come to yours, I told myself- Maybe she will write again soon. Just wait. You don't want to miss it when she does.
So, I knew you would come back. Thats why I kept you there.
I know you know that I love you and Michael so ridiculously much. I say it more to remind you than anything, like you'd ever forget. But I have always looked up to the relationship you have. Who and how you guys are- and how you have grown together since I was little- has been a force in my life that is sort of beyond words for me. I can tell you though, it is what I want for my life. And maybe right now you're strong or maybe you're numb (or maybe my I've been hoarding some of your more weepy tendencies for my personal use) but it doesn't really matter. All that matters is that you have both done amazing, and you will continue to do amazing, because its who you are. You are powerhouses.
You guys are both my heroes. And I know you know exactly what I mean.