that tug at my soul.
Which sometimes leads me to put "pen to paper",
so to speak, when the pull is more melancholy.
Life with cancer, as usual, has its ups and downs.
Kyle spent last Thursday at the Huntsman ER while they
tried to figure out what was wrong with him.
He woke up with a cough that would not quit and a
feeling that he could never quite catch a full, deep
Being the "almost doctor" that I am after 15 months,
I turned to my good friend "google" and was quite
alarmed to see that cancer and chemo patients have
higher odds for pulmonary embolisms, of which his
symptoms seemed a good match.
I was at work and strongly urged him to call his doctor,
who happened to ALSO agree with my worrisome "possible
diagnosis" and they told him to hurry up ASAP so
they could assess the situation.
After a 5 hour stint in the E.R. and a battery of
tests (including CT scans, EKGs and blood work) Kyle
seemed to check out just fine.
They found no blood clots in his lungs and in fact,
other than cancer, could find nothing wrong with him.
That darn cancer!
Time has been slipping by with a liquid ease and haze
that only comes with summertime.
For me, it means nothing changes--but for my family
it means sleeping a little longer and doing absolutely
nothing if they see fit.
As it should be.
We have spent our share of lazy nights (after homework
for me) sitting in the hammock and laying on the grass
in the backyard.
With the doodle of course, always with the doodle.
We have watched sunsets and planted tomatoes and
enjoyed simply being together.
There is a peace in our unhurried pace.
There is joy in simply existing and absorbing
these moments together, drenched in the summer sun.
Time has been good to us, so far.
We are learning, more than ever, to live IN it.
In the here and now.
We've decided, all things said, it is truly a good
way to live.
To appreciate and smell and live and breath and be...
I saw a post on Instagram of a friend celebrating
an anniversary recently.
I was happy for them.
But then the tug came to my heart.
An ache of a longing so deep that I couldn't stop
what came next.
A sorrow so deep washed over me thinking of a time
that did not include...
But instead included...
I understand that faith, and hope, and life
is so very different for everyone.
Each one of us.
And we all experience all of it through the very
lens of our own life experiences.
But for me, I cannot seem to find the joy of
faith, or hope, in the thoughts of living through
anniversaries and birthdays and my children's
life milestones WITHOUT Kyle in our life.
I am not sure why for me this is a comfortless
Thoughts of God, and Christ, and eternities, and
family units do nothing to diminish the agony in
my heart and soul.
When I think of "then."
Thoughts of being without this creature I call
my husband in THIS life for a finite number of
years here on this earth.
Those thoughts crush me if I let them.
And so mostly, for now, I don't let them.
But every once in a while they peek in and steal
my joy and leave me breathless and scared
for a moment in time.
For the time being I have no good answers
and so I participate in the day to day goodness--
because it is all we have right now.
We don't know for how long, but we have it now.
And so for one more day I will inhale
and exhale and roll on the grass with the dog.
And hold the hand of the one I love.
And breath deeply the joy that comes from
Here and Now.
And that's what I've got for today.