Connect the dots.

I miss my energy. I miss being strong enough to lift my kids up and spin them in circles. I miss my silliness. I miss going for a run. I miss coffee. I miss my hair. I miss the lightness of normalcy. I miss having the ability to clean the house, run the dishwasher, and start dinner before Joel gets home. I miss the absence of nausea. I miss being the helper.

I did not need cancer to be grateful for these small things. I had this part figured out. I truly felt grateful every single day. I would whisper to Joel before sleep, “we are so lucky, so blessed.” I took the extra minutes to snuggle my boys. I turned the radio up and sang silly songs with them. I did not get lost in the routine. I stopped for joy, I noticed it, I invited it in every chance I got. I did not need cancer to be grateful. I studied the sky, and closed my eyes, and found tiny moments of peace. I did not need cancer to slow me down- to make me pay attention to what matters– I had that part figured out. I got it.

It takes a long time to connect the dots. To see why things happen the way they do. To make sense of the senseless. I wonder how these dots will connect. What image will appear?

Until then. I miss my healthy body. If you have one — (a healthy body)– use it. Push it to its limits. Make it strong. Fill it with fuel that keeps it healthy.

Because I am on the couch. Tired. Dreaming of that healthy body crossing some sort of finish line. Wishing for sweat, and natural exhaustion.

Chemo is tar. It is cement. It has me benched — waiting to connect the dots.

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3 thoughts on “Connect the dots.

  1. “What image will appear?” It’s a question of hope and curiosity. Two things that make you bigger than this. Love and light and hope to you Melissa! I don’t even have the right to say, “hang in there” but I want you to remember that soon your foot will be tapping again. 🙂 Not soon enough, but soon. HUGS!!!

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  2. I don’t know about “why’s.” Senseless things happen, all the time. But I do believe that good things can come from bad things; that every wound has a gift. Like re-discovering how much you are loved, by so many people. Like discovering that you are stronger than you ever thought you were.

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  3. Dear Melissa, It’s Tali, Isaac’s mom:) I just wanted to let you know that I am thinking about you big time. I saw a glimpse of you this morning at drop off, but by the time I waved from the car we had already crossed paths. I am in awe of your beauty, your strength, and your wisdom. I’m sending love and light to you and your family. I know you are surrounded by lots of wonderful support, but please let me know if you need anything. I know Isaac would love to have Alex over to play!

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