I remember the day we headed for my father’s funeral. It was cold; certainly inside of me it was cold. I woke that morning full of dread. The adults had never let me see my father after his death. I wanted to but then I didn’t want to. I needed to finalize his life but I was afraid that to do so would end his life. In my heart he was very much alive, I wanted that to stay and yet I was fearful that my wishes might have killed him. He had hurt me so; I had, at times wished for his death. I didn’t understand what that would really mean. Now, as I dressed in the clothes that were so much not me, I shivered at the thought of this ritual. I had never been to a funeral and I knew that they would make me look upon him. Then he would be dead. Then I could not hope for the love I so wanted from him. Then it would be true. So much of me wanted it to not be true and yet so much of me wanted it so. How could I be this way? At 12 years of age, the understanding of dread and hope intermingled with expectation had me confused and ragged. The family went, five kids and their mother. We sat alone in a little room to the side of the casket. The casket was closed. I wondered if he was really there or if this was just a game and I would see him later. I have no idea what was said. Now I wanted to see him. Then it was done. Life would be different. No matter that it would be better; it was just going to be different. I could not anticipate the impact of that day or that situation. I waited for something to burst forth in me but it came so slowly that only after looking back many years later did I see the effect. Some of it was good.
I feel like I am in the same place now. Maybe I need a funeral for this cancer but it is in a closed casket and I do not know it is dead. Maybe cancer is not there at all. When we left City of Hope, Lee, the greatest of optimists, was joyfully elated but questioned by quietness. I simply said that I wasn’t quite ready to believe yet. Lee has desired my joy to return for so long. I was so sorry that I could not show that to him. Cancer is not an acute illness. Unless God does something miraculous, it is chronic and often fatal. I have lived with that, and so has Lee, for a long time. It’s not a friendly relationship and I have wished for its death more than once. And yet, cancer has moved me to a place in my spiritual life that I do not think I would have achieved in any other way. I long to keep that relationship with God and wonder if I can do it. Will I remember that life is fragile and death is imminent? Will I seek God at every turn, cry to Him when I can no longer understand the picture? I pray that the hunger that I have now and the understanding that He has given me for eternity will be my guide. I have an obligation to do so. So this enemy has also been a friend. Its funeral, if in fact it has died, is a bittersweet experience. I am left alone to grow on my own, again. And what if it is a game? What if it returns after months of secret devastation? That I do not know. Only God can deal with that. I have tried and I can not go there right now. I will have to wait for that time. I know it will be different. I know it will seem worse. But somehow, I think that God will make it better. I don’t know how, but God does, after all, He is God.
We have been home a week. Something very strange has happened. I dropped my guard. All that I have thought, all that I feel and dread has been betrayed by joy. I didn’t think that would happen. Regardless of what the scale says, I am lighter and sillier. I can laugh deeper, play harder, work longer and worship deeply. God has reminded me of His love for me and the simple miracle of respite. It doesn’t matter if the cancer is dead or not, I have time and health, for however long God chooses to give it to me. I can enjoy that. I do not need to dread the return, if that comes. God will give me the grace at that time. I just have to be excited about what God is doing right now, in my body and my soul. Wherever He takes me, He will be there and He will get me through it with His strength. I will not be off in a side room all by myself. It will not be cold and I will not feel out of place. God is my constant companion and friend. He let His Son, Jesus, die for me. He will not let me die without Him. I really love this God.
With all my love,
Marj.
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