From an article originally posted October 9, 2012…
I’m resting better, I’m feeling better, I’m watching the love I have known since I was 17 be extended to my children.
Gentle kindness is shepherding the hearts of my children. My dear Mickey and Kim were some of the first to hear of my illness. From that moment, they committed to getting her here. She offered an entire month. We could not comprehend the gift. We could not understand the love that would sacrifice a month of life to support this large family. Tonight Jason and I fell tired into chairs, and looked up and saw her patiently helping our oldest with a book report. Jason said, “I am so thankful she is here.”
This afternoon she cleaned out the drawers of my baby and took out summer clothes. She enjoyed Johnny Cash with Story Jane, she is training my puppy, and she walked me to the grocery to give me a moment of normalcy. This list could go on and on.
Mickey and I were cut from the exact same cloth. We can work hard at tidying the house, we can plan a party, but we can also spend the entire morning in pajamas chatting and drinking coffee without a hint of guilt. Okay, we do the second more.
I have been really wanting to go out in public bald lately. I have been talking and talking about wanting to brave bald. I do not love wigs, scarves, hats. I want to go like I am. Today, with my Mickey, I braved it. She and I do not, for a moment, ever stop talking. I have taken wrong turns, been lost a mile from my house, because I’m wrapped in a conversation. Today I braved Costco and lunch without a head covering. There were many looks, many turned heads, looks of sweet sympathy, but in the safety of the person next to me, I hardly noticed.
Mickey has brought an interesting political conversation rather than a hateful one. I rarely talk politics in any forum, but in the safety of a loving relationship we can talk and even disagree. It’s lovely. It’s not all highbrow discussions. Today we were talking about our affections for hip hop to dance to while cooking.
This is the very best of what my friend brings. Jason would say it’s the caramel corn (he ate his weight in it last night). It’s the time spent gently loving my kids. She has brought love in the depths of our cancer journey. I can see the subtle ways my kids are hurting. She has brought consistency and patience, and cereal for dinner. She is a gift that makes my weary heart so thankful.
