36
I've been thinking about this post for a long time. How to write it so that it accurately portrays how I feel without making it sounds like I'm thankful for cancer. Because I'm not. I hate cancer. I hate that this may be my last birthday where my mom calls me and sings. I hate it a lot.
But in some ways cancer has been a gift. That sounds so weird to say, to type. It's not a gift like something you want that someone you love gives you. But maybe a gift in the sense that it's changed some things for the better. At least in me or for me. Sure it's ripped out my guts and caused more pain that I've known and I would happily return it, no questions asked. But that's not an option here. We can't give cancer back.
There are parts that I wouldn't return though.
Mom and I have always talked on the phone a lot. Most of it just chatting or calling about an idea or something random. Conversations post cancer feel different. Even if we talk about nothing, I soak it in. I savor it. I feel like each conversation matters more. I'm grateful for each time I see her name on the caller ID or each time she answers the phone when I call and says "Hi Tootie!". Before cancer I would have just said 'hi' but now I feel myself smile when she says hi. I am so grateful for every phone call, every email, every text message. I feel physically grateful.
Like I said, it's hard to explain, but if I could figure out a way to feel this way about every conversation with every important person in my life, I would. It took a terminal illness to awaken it. I'm working to apply it to all my relationships, without the terminal illness part. Life gets busy and things happen and we are all juggling so much every day. It's so easy to not pause and be grateful. Cancer has changed that. And I'm really thankful for that.
And Ross. My brother and I have always been close in a 'I've got your back' kind of way. But the 5 years between us has never put us in the same phase of life at the same time. He's in elementary school, I was in high school. He was in college I was married having a baby. He was always Ross. Somehow things always just work out for Ross in the most ass backwards way and we all just roll our eyes and say, that's Ross. And he's still Ross but cancer has changed our relationship. Probably because I can finally see him how I should have seen him for years. Ross is a grown up. Shit, he's 31. He's a man with a wonderful wife who I adore like a real sister. An adult with a great job that he's really good at. He's funny and so talented (these things I already knew but never appreciated as much as I should have). And I can say, at 36, Ross is my friend. Someone I can lean on and count on. I never saw him that way before. I'm really grateful for that.
As a parent I hope and pray that my kids are friends when they are adults. I'm pretty sure it was Baz Luhrmann (in that bizarre anthem from my senior year in high school called "Wear Sunscreen") who said your siblings are your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future. I know Mom and Dad are grateful that our bond has strengthened because of cancer.
So I'm not thankful for cancer. I'd give it back in a heartbeat. But if I gave it back, I'd want to hold onto just a couple of things. I think they've made me a better person. A better wife. A better mom. A better sister. And a better friend.
And finally, Mom. I know the pain and fear and joy of birth. I know it's no small feat. And I'm so grateful for all that you did 36 years ago today to bring me into the world. I'm even more grateful for everything you've done for me every day since then. I love you. THIS MUCH.
But in some ways cancer has been a gift. That sounds so weird to say, to type. It's not a gift like something you want that someone you love gives you. But maybe a gift in the sense that it's changed some things for the better. At least in me or for me. Sure it's ripped out my guts and caused more pain that I've known and I would happily return it, no questions asked. But that's not an option here. We can't give cancer back.
There are parts that I wouldn't return though.
Mom and I have always talked on the phone a lot. Most of it just chatting or calling about an idea or something random. Conversations post cancer feel different. Even if we talk about nothing, I soak it in. I savor it. I feel like each conversation matters more. I'm grateful for each time I see her name on the caller ID or each time she answers the phone when I call and says "Hi Tootie!". Before cancer I would have just said 'hi' but now I feel myself smile when she says hi. I am so grateful for every phone call, every email, every text message. I feel physically grateful.
Like I said, it's hard to explain, but if I could figure out a way to feel this way about every conversation with every important person in my life, I would. It took a terminal illness to awaken it. I'm working to apply it to all my relationships, without the terminal illness part. Life gets busy and things happen and we are all juggling so much every day. It's so easy to not pause and be grateful. Cancer has changed that. And I'm really thankful for that.
And Ross. My brother and I have always been close in a 'I've got your back' kind of way. But the 5 years between us has never put us in the same phase of life at the same time. He's in elementary school, I was in high school. He was in college I was married having a baby. He was always Ross. Somehow things always just work out for Ross in the most ass backwards way and we all just roll our eyes and say, that's Ross. And he's still Ross but cancer has changed our relationship. Probably because I can finally see him how I should have seen him for years. Ross is a grown up. Shit, he's 31. He's a man with a wonderful wife who I adore like a real sister. An adult with a great job that he's really good at. He's funny and so talented (these things I already knew but never appreciated as much as I should have). And I can say, at 36, Ross is my friend. Someone I can lean on and count on. I never saw him that way before. I'm really grateful for that.
As a parent I hope and pray that my kids are friends when they are adults. I'm pretty sure it was Baz Luhrmann (in that bizarre anthem from my senior year in high school called "Wear Sunscreen") who said your siblings are your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future. I know Mom and Dad are grateful that our bond has strengthened because of cancer.
So I'm not thankful for cancer. I'd give it back in a heartbeat. But if I gave it back, I'd want to hold onto just a couple of things. I think they've made me a better person. A better wife. A better mom. A better sister. And a better friend.
And finally, Mom. I know the pain and fear and joy of birth. I know it's no small feat. And I'm so grateful for all that you did 36 years ago today to bring me into the world. I'm even more grateful for everything you've done for me every day since then. I love you. THIS MUCH.
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