The title of this blog is a quote from my cousin on the day she learned of my mother's diagnosis.
I responded, "Me, too." that day. Now I am beyond that. Cancer brings so much pain and sorrow with it that I can't be rational about it.
My Mom has now passed. Cancer took her quickly. She was on hospice for only two months after her doctors determined that treatments simply wouldn't work.
My friend, in some ways my second Mom, passed away yesterday. From cancer. It was lung cancer and she had never smoked. Eventually, it went to her brain. Then chemo made the ten tumors in her brain disappear. Unfortunately, six new ones grew. She went back on chemo and fought til the end.
This morning, an older woman in our church wants me to take Jordan out of the service while the pastor announces that her cancer is terminal. They are close.
I am actually not sure how to handle that. Jordan was upset by my mother's diagnosis and was horrified when she went on hospice. During his own hospitalization, he told the Chaplain, "They've basically given up." He was sad when he realized that Gammie would no longer be living in her house when we moved in. But then....he participated in her end of life care with little emotion. And since her death he's had no reaction. To the point that I was asked if he had made an emotional connection to the event. I don't know. I think he did all his processing beforehand and maybe he will react later. Kids, I understand, often deal with such things in small increments over time.
As we clean out my mother's house, I reflect on how much more she wanted to do, how she wanted to see Jordan grow. My mother spent more than a decade as a full time (24/7) caregiver. Cancer caught her just 18 months after my grandmother passed away. It seems so unfair.
When my father was diagnosed with ALS back in 1993, a church member said, "Life is unfair, but the God, he is good." It is hard to keep that in focus. We live in a world out of balance. It needs restoration and that will only happen at the end of all time.
All I can do is trust that, ultimately, all will be well.
Blessings on your day.
Cancer is awful. Just awful. I too have seen others pass from it. One of my former colleagues passed in her 40s leaving a seven year old son behind. Such heartache it brings. It knows no bounds. All will be well, I do agree with that. Thinking of you and your family.
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