Damp, heavy snowflakes the size of silver dollars fell between the raindrops yesterday and landed on my bright new pink tulips.
Hope, covered with a dose of reality.
My Mom is undergoing chemotherapy during these few months. After a lifetime of a strong, healthy constitution, an aggressive cancer suddenly struck. She is 80 years old. Even after three doses of chemo, she still feels good. No nausea. Her hair is gone, but she has a little fringe at the front, so when she wears her pink ball cap, it looks like she still has some hair. She and her pink cap drive around town, doing volunteer work and visiting friends. The wake-up-call of cancer reminded her to love everything, enjoy everything, be glad about everything, and to say so to her loved ones. She had to put off taking a cruise with some friends, but plans to take a cruise after the chemo is done.
I struggle to balance my elation over her steadfast health, with the fact that it is, after all, cancer. Our family has always had a silly joke about the number 81 being a bad number somehow, so I really want her to be 81 years old. I want the chance to harrass Mom about being 81, as we were able to do for a whole year with Dad. And then I want her to be even older and even healthier, for as long as she wants to be.
Hope, coated with a dose of reality.
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3 comments:
I'm very sorry to hear about your mother's cancer, but am very inspired by her spirit of giving ~ WOW. I'd love to meet her. No wonder you're such a wonderful person yourself, Willow.
May I add her to my Lovingkindness list on my blog? It's like a Buddhist/Christian prayer chain of sorts.
Hugs,
Susan
May that strength, inner & outer, carry her through. Bon courage to you & yours, Bonnie.
Of course, Susan! I'd be very happy if you'd pray for Mom. Her name is Barbara, and she lives near you.
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