Cancer and Mouring and Mothering

I miss my husband. He's been gone for over a week now.

He needs to visit his mother who is 7 days into her chemo now and likely feeling ill.

He makes me feel safe and smart and needed and whole. I hope I do the same for him. This is a scary time and I'm still feeling the sting of Steven so I'm definitely over emotional.

After I dropped Adam off at school today I pulled over the car and cried.

Not a little cry.

The kind of crying that gives your stomach a workout, the kind where you stop breathing for a moment and you think you might die but if you don't cry you won't know that you're alive.

Today I cried a lot.

Then I went home, washed my face and called Mrs. D because she always has something to say and she always makes me laugh.

Last night I went to the trunk of Hubby's car and found a bag of Steven's clothing. It's not the right thing to do but I'm keeping it. It's mine.

My father in scuba diving alone in Mexico. The risk he is taking is ridiculous but I guess he needs to live his life as he sees fit.

My husband is 3,000 miles away with his mother who is trying to beat her lymphoma.

I drove my children to school this morning and listened to their discussions with delight. I could see the smiles in their eyes through the rear view mirror.

When Adam and Eve smile the world stops for a moment. They are so pure and whole and joyous that you really do think you're in Eden. Sometimes if you're lucky you'll get a giggle, or a tandem giggle, it's like the birds singing in the morning.

If this sounds like a love letter to my family, that's because it is. All of my days and nights are about giving and loving and living with and for them.

So I shake and cry because I know that my children, those two souls that G-d has let me borrow for this lifetime, those sweet angels are at a precariously high risk of having a blood borne cancer.

I'm terrified.

I squeeze a tiny bit of control back when I run and raise money for LLS. I'm marathoning right now because I've never been so desperate in my life to have a disease cured.

Usually this all doesn't bother me but today I'm sad. I'm profoundly sad and lonely and frightened, sometimes the fundraising makes me feel better, more in control. I'll take a long run in about an hour. That will surely help.

The Funeral Was "Beautiful" - The Chemo Begins Today

Apparently it was a beautiful funeral with a baby blue casket and a lot of flowers.

Steven's entire graduating High School class showed up. It was 90 minutes long and the town virtually shut down.

Like my cyber-rock Kenn I wonder if the small town that gave West Hollywood the gift of Steven celebrated the life of a man taken by AIDS or by Lymphoma.

Since no mother should bury a child (did I mention that Steven was the second of her sons to succumb to AIDS?) I will reserve judgment.

Some of the guys are very angry that Steven wasn't buried here. I don't share that rage, I wonder if it's just exhaustion.

My mother in law is due to begin chemotherapy today. The doctors have given her a 50% chance of getting to remission.

My children are frightened and there's nothing I can do to allay their fears. The fear that their Grandmother will die is a real and reasonable one. They are also saddened by Steven's death but they take it in stride.

Adam and Eve want to know that Mom and Dad are healthy.

They want to know what would happen to them if we died.

They worry that their Uncle smokes.

They see their strong father sad and suffering this is new and unusual.

I can only hold them, show them our fitness and tell them that G-d needed Steven to keep the other angels happy. I tell them that I'm hopeful for Grammie but no one is really sure, Daddy just needs us to all be very good for him.

It's a difficult moment to be a Jew, we don't discuss the afterlife, we don't dwell on it, we simply march on.

I'm teaching Adam and Eve to march forward, shoulders squared even when your eyes are watery.

I'm very afraid.

Skiing Alone Flying through powder

We ran away.

We took the kids and we are literally on top of a mountain.

Hubby's mother had a 5.5 hour emergency surgery yesterday. It's lymphoma and it's bad. I told him she could come live with us, that I would take care of her if it's what he wanted. I also promised to not repeat the conversation.

He is my husband, any decision he makes will be fine with me. I love him and I'll do anything for him, including caring for his mother who gave me such a magnificent man.

Adam and Eve have learned to snowboard. Hubby has learned too.

Something wonderful happens to me on the mountain and I'm free.

I find the steepest meanest trails I can, covered in powder to my knees and I ski so hard I fight for breath and every so often I'm so scared I cry.

But I ski like I run. It's intense and it's solo and the physical challenge shuts my brain off for hours at a time.

The teenage hotshots whip past me coming off the ski lifts but I glide past them, weaving through the trees, jumping small cliffs and my 37 year old knees are giant shock absorbers. My thighs are tight and they ache but there are so few things in this world that I know I do better than most.

Skiing is something I do better than most

And on the Mountain

No One

Can

Catch

Me

NO Matter

How Hard

They

Try.

I needed this. Hubby needed a break, Adam and Eve needed this.

Tomorrow I'll ski and run since I'm now adjusted to the altitude.

This is bliss.

I may not be a size 2 but my body works perfectly and I'm immensely grateful for that.

I believe.