Day 53
A letter to my husband-
... and a preface... Marriages are inherently private. Our marriage has seen the best of times and the worst of times. There were days when the both of us were not sure we would see another week or month or year together. Somehow, through it all, we have stayed and persevered and loved each other through it. It is not perfect. It is hard and terrible and amazing and mundane, all at once, all the time. I feel this cancer, this journey, has strengthened us. There is much that I have said and shared with my husband that I could never repeat to anyone... but the things that I share here are things that I think, should be shared for all the world to see how much he means to me... what he has gifted me with this love and loyalty and tenderness and devotion. For all of that, and for the beautiful children and family that we share together, I will adore and treasure him forever.
So here is my letter... to my one and only husband.
My dear sweet Russell-
I know you will protest when you read even this very first line. You will say that I shouldn't have shared so much, that you do not deserve a public acknowledgement... you will most likely be at first irritated and possibly embarrassed, because I have called ATTENTION to you... and yet, I know, that part of the so very difficult part of this journey, for you, has been that you need and want attention and someone to talk to you about YOU, when all the attention and worry and support has been directed at me. Even from you, you are always taking care of me, making sure I eat and rest and sleep and get home, when you forget to eat your own breakfast or take your own shower because there is so much to do.
I want to take a moment and tell you how very GRATEFUL and TOUCHED and COMFORTED I have been by you, and how you have handled my (terrible) diagnosis (scary whisper... "cancer"...) and how you have held me tight and lifted me up and looked into my eyes and journeyed with and beside me. I know, for some men, it would be easier to run away.... not maybe physically, but emotionally... to run for the hills and withdraw and get angry or sullen or just turn to alcohol or drugs or tv or the internet to escape and not have to deal with all of ... well, THIS. You have done none of that.
Those first few days, before we knew anything, were the most awful days. I was convinced I was dying and you ~ I think, I convinced you too. We were JUST getting in the swing of our new lives, with the twins just 3 and more independent. We had a financial plan and we were finally making headway into plans to refi the house and have retirement money. Work was busy and all was finally becoming more routine ... we had just hit that sweet spot - and then BAM... cancer at 47.
We both cried ~and I sobbed and heaved ~ and after you dried your eyes, you held me.. you let me cry and you didn't just say patronizing things, like, "don't worry"... Those early days, you said three things to me. Those three things changed my entire view of you and me and our relationship... and I knew then, after you said these things, why I married you....( people forget, after 12 years of ups and downs, why they got married in the first place. Life happens and things get hard. We were no exception).
You said....
1) I need you. The girls need you. We just need you to be ok.
2) You will not be alone, in any of this. I will be with you. You will never be alone.
3) We will do whatever it takes, together, to make sure you are ok. We will do it. We will find a way.
Those three things made me brave. Those three things made me feel loved and adored and treasured and important in my family. I felt like I mattered... like my presence in this family mattered and you were going to fight, like I was going to fight, to keep me here. These words, and your tight embrace, and your strong arms around me as my body would time and time collapse into sobs of fear and despair, would comfort me and calm me and quiet the raging seas of "what-ifs" that would explode into furious tsunamis of emotion... and we would breathe together, in and out, slowly, and soon, we would laugh... quietly... and then we would gather ourselves and figure out the next step... and go on with the business of living and raising our kids and also, fighting cancer.
You have been true to your word. Every chemo, you drive me and you lug my 3 bags of water and snacks and coloring books and pillows and blankets and extra socks. You don't complain. You let me take your picture and you sit at my side, while the poison drips into me... and you hold my hand and you slip quietly away to take a walk and stretch your legs and get a bite to eat, only after I have drifted into my chemo-sleep.
And the day is done, and we drive home... and you arrange for the kids to go to your moms on my worst days... and we watch movies and you make me plates of yummy food, tempting me to eat, even when everything tastes like metal.
You decorated the house for Christmas while I was at work one day. You have never done that in 12 years... and that garland and those lights, going all the way up the banister up the stairs spoke volumes to me.
I spent a fortune on Christmas this year... I keep thinking, 'what if it is my last?'... and you bite your tongue and you look at the packages... and you KNOW that it is too much... but somehow, you forgive me and you let it slide... and each day, when I come home, you are playing with the girls, with Christmas music playing and we all are every day counting down another day until Santa comes.... it is going to be "epic", as our 10 year old would say.
I never thought we would be here... at this time in our lives. I never thought I would be bald and deformed and sick (not really sick anymore... but "sick" because I am still not entirely done with treatment. Just 10 more days!) ... at 47. I am supposed to be in the PRIME of my life... healthy and strong and raising our daughters with you, planning vacations and retirement and dreaming of beach houses to buy and where we might send our oldest to college. Instead, I am mapping out chemo dates and looking at breast cancer walk dates for 2017... I secretly research recurrence rates for Stage 2 triple negative breast cancer, praying PRAYING to be on the good side of those numbers. I am hoping to have hair by May, for my birthday, so I don't have to wear a hat anymore, every day, to hide my head. I am so sorry, my sweet... I am so very sorry I have burdened you with this illness, this hurdle, this obstacle to our future, which had looked so bright.
I want to thank you... not just a cursory thing... but a very deep and heartfelt and real GRATITUDE thing... and that thankfulness fills my heart with overwhelming love and appreciation for you and for the VERY STRONG man that you are.... I cannot imagine doing any of this without you... and I just don't want to. I know I have been hard on you... hard to live with sometimes... hard to be with, because of all of my drive and dreams and wants and needs, because of my furious RUSH to do all the things, all the time. This journey has made it clear that everything I want and need is right in front of me... you, our life, our kids. Nothing else matters to me. I am slowing down. I am breathing more, and appreciating the moment now. Nothing is more important than you and them. I don't need to rush and to do everything and to go, go, go. I want to just be, here, at home, with you... and to live quietly and watch the children run in the yard and have their Christmas and swim in the pool on hot summer nights, lonb past sunset and to REMEMBER to savor every laugh and every hug and to FEEL the happiness that floats around our heads like the whispering breeze.
I love you... more deeply than I ever have and so much more profoundly than I did 12 years ago, when we said our wedding vows. Thank you for loving me back. Thank you for walking with me, all these years, but most especially, these last 4 months.
I will do my best to be the wife that you need and want... I will do my VERY BEST to be that wife for many, many, MANY more years... so we can sway in our rocking chairs on the front porch, 20 or 30 years from now and smile... and think then, how far we have come....
Forever yours, my love... let's LIVE....
xoxox
Your Angela
