A.C. - December
I read somewhere the other day that when someone gets the diagnosis of cancer, it serves as this powerful "existential slap". Most of us don't consider the possibility of dying in our every day lives. Cancer comes around and there it is, on paper... this THING that is shouting at us, "Wake up! Your life is finite! You might not make it through this!" ... and it's awful and terrifying and so sad.
This happened for me in a big way. I had just been through a very tough 5 years. Miscarriages and infertility and IVF and twins and then the newborn stage and no sleep and a very demanding job~ all had taxed me to the ultimate degree. I was not exercising, I was not eating right. I felt like something was OFF.. and then CANCER.
Those first few days, I sobbed and raged and got on my knees and prayed. I clung to my husband and I begged God at night, in the midst of terrifying insomnia, to let me live. I did everything I could to help my body defeat the monster. I gave up sugar. I started eating right. I was walking miles and miles per day. I started gulping down supplements. I started writing letters to my girls, so if I died, they would know I loved them. It was indeed an existential slap in the face. ... and I listened.
So the trouble with me, and with anyone really, is consistency and longevity. Now, a year later, where am I? I have hair again. I am still taking supplements, although I forget a lot. I am still overweight. I am still not eating right, most of the time. I am still not exercising, most of the time. I am still writing, but not as much. I am still angry about the "cancer"... although I most definitely have had an appreciation of the awareness of how fragile life is. I have had a short temper these last few months and I have this body loathing problem, I know, that is tied to the eating and the lack of exercise... oh - and the no-boob thing.
So here it is December. I love December for the magic that we create at home. I love seeing my children's faces light up with the daily surprise in the advent calendar. I love the innocence most of all... the BELIEF that Santa is real and that he brings surprises and gifts. I LOVE love LOVE the squeals and the jumps and the sparkling eyes and the little people looking up at me, and wanting to SHOW me what happened. It makes me want to be better. It makes me want to keep the magic alive and somehow, my angst and my rage and self-absorption melts away and I am energized and enlivened by my kids. They give me hope that it is all worthwhile. They give me the gift of LAUGHTER and this is the most amazing thing. How can I be furious when I am laughing? I absolutely cannot.
Last night, at dinner, Russ and I were talking about something so innocent. He said something about how he hopes the girls remember nights after dinner, with the music loud and us dancing in the living room. He said he hopes that when they are older and mothers themselves, when he and I are gone, that they remember the happy happy times at home. Oh my goodness, I just started crying right then. How on earth can I even THINK about leaving this earth when my children are still here? How can I even bear to think about dying, and missing their lives and not being there to tell them every day how incredible they are, how very much I love them and how proud I am of them?? Once again, last night at dinner, there it was... this existential slap... this reminder that we will leave our lives someday and that the only thing left of us will be the memories of us in our children. Ohhhh how I hope that I can get OVER MYSELF and be a good mother to them. Ohhhh, how this hurts my soul to know that there are days that I am so ABSORBED in my own problems and circular negativity that I MISS the joy and that I look at them in annoyance when they need me to take them to the bathroom or tie their shoes. There will be a time, all too soon, when they will be grown up. My hallways will not echo with the patter of their thundering feet and my stairwells will no longer hold the remnants of my little pony tea parties and faux jewels. There will be a time, all too soon, when they will no longer call out for me in the middle of the night, and I will sleep the night through and I will sorely miss these days. There will come a time, I hope long, LONG from now, when I will no longer reside in this body and my time with them will be over... death will come. How can I LIVE this life, knowing that death is coming???? I do not know. I guess it is the humanity in all of us that just keeps us going. I know in my soul that LOVE is what keeps me going.
My sweet husband and I had a little moment last night... where we hugged each other tight, and we whispered to each other, while the music was blaring and the girls were twirling and racing in the hall, that we are so blessed. We have such a good life. Time passes, we get older every day. We are closer to death each moment - and yet we persevere and we plan for the summer and we think about the future, never knowing if it will come. WE HOPE... and that is what I cling to. Hope always seemed like a weak word to me, BEFORE CANCER. After cancer, I see HOPE as a beacon, something to cling to and to live by. It is a POWERFUL thing, to continue to LIVE and to HOPE and to BE GOOD and KIND and to GIVE to others, when we know that death is coming, someday... we LIVE in spite of death. We live BECAUSE of death, and that makes each moment sweeter.
Today, I CHOOSE LIFE. I CHOOSE HOPE. I choose to dance in the hallway and let the dishes sit and to swing my children around and to rejoice that I am here and I am doing things ~ like moving elves around at night and writing little notes and joining them in the delight each morning ~ which will imprint upon their brains the MAGIC of Christmas. I pray the magic lingers. I pray they remember so much of the good, when they are old and I am gone. I pray, somehow, they read these words and they know that I do it all for them.
So I am off to do the things that I do, to keep our lives going. But today, secretly in my mind, instead of replacing knees and repairing rotator cuffs, I will be dancing to a jazzy little tune in the hallways of my memories. Today, I dance... and I hope.. and I live.