I don’t want to write the truth.
Because it is dark. And not pretty. And scary. And sad.
But true. And I promised. I would tell the whole story.
The past 36 hours I have found myself sinking.
If I was swimming before — if I was treading water — I am now barely bobbing up to the surface for air. This ocean of cancer is so vast. It takes so much to breathe.
Everything hurts. I can’t be a mom, or a wife, or a friend, or daughter, or a teacher — I am just a heavy weight dragging from couch to bed — from bed to couch.
I hate this. All of it. I’ve lost so much already, and there is so much still to loose.
Those who love me — hate this too.
I didn’t want to write this post, because I was sure there would be no silver lining at the end. No flicker of light.
I was sure that by the time I finished writing, there would still only be this unspeakable sadness.
I can’t always end with hope.
But there it is. This force deep inside of me that refuses to lie down. The tiniest sliver of green.
My sister-in-law’s hand on my shoulder, “you will be on the other side of this.”
My 3-year-old singing “The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow”.
And I pray that it does.
Because I could really use some sun.