Looking Beyond The (Dirty) Glass

This past week Kyle had a work conference in Park City.

He's on a committee and had worked on this weeks conference for

almost an entire year.

He spent Wednesday night alone and had me come up to 

the "big dinner and entertainment" on Thursday with him.

Who am I to complain about a night away with my husband?

There are, after all, a finite number of these nights left now.

And besides that, I love Park City in the warmer weather.

(Not being a skier and having an aversion to snow and cold 

weather, I love it when the temperatures warm up, up there.)

(And I know...what I am doing living in Utah, right? 

We have snow from October to May...I need a house in San Diego)

I wish I could say that I am always happy and cheerful

and enjoying each moment.

I WILL SAY that I am trying REALLY really really hard to do better.

In fact, sometimes, for a moment I forget.

(about the cancer).

I wish I had the capability, and capacity, to do it for

longer periods of time.

I wish I could explain how very heavy the word "terminal"

weighs on my heart.

My mind.

My soul.

Some days it STILL squeezes the very breath out of my whole body.

Some days I STILL erupt into uncontrollable tears, and sob.

Some days I am STILL so angry at this, this $#&*@&&# THING, for happening.

Some days I STILL want to curl up and quit.

I want to run away.  Make it stop.

Some days.

But that night, the dinner was good.  It was nice to be away

with him.

I got to meet some of my husbands colleagues and enjoy

real "grown up" time.  (It felt so weird to be among working

people after so many years as a stay at home mother)

They had a local music group (an a capella "boy band") for the

entertainment.  

They were cute and funny and could even sing!

And I did great until the band started singing.

Because music has ALWAYS had a way of going straight to my heart.

(argh!)

It made me a little teary.

I saw a few dads hold their kids tight.

And husbands reach for their wives hands.

It made my heart crunch a little.

(cancer)

(the future)

(*&#$^@*@)

ENJOY THE MOMENT, I screamed inside of my head, to myself.

And a tear slipped down my cheek.

I pinched my hands and bit my tongue to stop the tears from

continuing.

At a certain point, Kyle grabbed my hand and led me from the conference room back to our room.  

I could barely contain the sobs as we walked down the hotel

hallway to the elevator.  My shoulders heaved and I hiccuped 

as I stifled my tears.

(I'm trying)

(I'm trying)

(Oh, how I'm trying)

(But)

(It's so hard when someone you love has this, this thing)

As usual, Kyle held me and calmed my soul.

We lit a fire in the fireplace, and watched the sunset, and 

talked.

It was good to simply be.

Simply be in that moment.

The next day I woke up early (6 am) and looked out the window

at the sun peeking up over the mountains.

I climbed back in bed and then told Kyle I was sorry, but we

were waking up and watching the sunrise.

We grabbed the pillows and blanket and lay down on the huge

window seat with our faces peeking out over the window sill

and watched the sun make its journey slowly over the horizon.

As we were watching, I noticed how dirty the windows were.

They were filthy.  Good heavens, winter had been hard on them!

The sun shining on them only showcased the dirt.

The higher the sun rose, and the brighter the light became,

the less you noticed the dirt on the windows however.

In fact, by the time the sun had finished her journey up,

and over, the mountains...you could ONLY see the beams of

light and nothing else.

Even though the dirt was still there, on the window, the 

light was more powerful than the grime.

You couldn't see it anymore.

I told Kyle there was a lesson in that sunrise somewhere.

(cancer)

Sometimes the only thing we can see in front of our

eyes right now is ...the dirt, the cancer.  

Sometimes it obliterates and blocks even the most beautiful, and

joyful, things in our lives.

Our view is so focused on the daily fight, we sometimes forget

to enjoy the beauty of the journey.

That sun shining even in the darkest moments.

Sometimes that beauty, it takes our breath away.

And sometimes the dirty windows? 

They bring us down.

I told Kyle there HAD TO be a way to focus more on the rising

sun, than on the dirty windows.

Honestly?  The rising sun, in all her glory, took our breath

away.  There was no where else I wanted to be than right

there, in that moment, watching the sun rise before our eyes.

(baby steps to looking past the dirty windows)

There is still so much unknown in this journey.

So many time frames and tests and numbers and chemo days and scans and doctor visits and blood work and waiting and trying.

For today, this is what I've got...

A pledge to TRY... 

(always a little harder) 

...to be in the moment and see the beauty

in the sunrise of each new day.

...and to look past the dirty windows and bask in the glow

of the warming rays of light.

Our view from the windowseat at 6 am

I wasn't kidding about the dirty windows, was I?

...and we watched the sunrise and then put on our 

Superman shirts and went to Round Six of chemo.