“How was your year?” she asked. And that started me thinking (danger zone, I know).
My year, I thought to myself, was filled with ups and downs, really cool moments and some not so cool. I crossed a few things off my bucket list – parasailing in Cancun, Girlfriend Weekend at the Golden Nugget, etc. Unfortunately, now that my shelf life is more than half way passed the expected expiration date – my bucket list is increasing and my time to accomplish it is decreasing, nothing unique there.
And then there were the unexpected sad moments. Our family got some really heart breaking news when my niece’s 34 year old husband Luke, was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. At that moment, my year sort of came to a standing halt. Nothing which was previously high on my list of importance seemed to matter.
For me, it was like being handed a pair of binoculars and told to find the moon in the night sky. Suddenly, life and what makes this journey worth living needed my full undivided attention. So I adjusted my eyes and slowly turned the focus wheel until all I could see was the beauty of light, the power of love and the healing energy of human touch.
We all love to jokingly laugh and say, “life is short” right before we indulge in a hot fudge sundae, but when someone you love so much is given this kind of diagnosis at such a young age, that sentiment takes on a deeper perspective. Every minute becomes precious. When your loved one is terminally ill there is no time for pettiness, negativity or the world’s ugliness. There is only room for giving of oneself, offering a helping hand, sacrificing selfish pursuits in order to simply “be there.” Which begs the question, why do we humans need dark situations to compel us to live in the light? Something for us all to ponder for sure.
“What music do you like?” I asked when my niece and I brought him home from the hospital. “Dave Matthews,” he responded meekly, “his music always uplifts me and makes me feel better.” And so we turned Dave on and tuned the cancer out. After the three of us embraced each other and let the tears flow as long as they wanted to come, we went and sat outside and basked in the warmth of the sun. He closed his eyes and slowly swayed to Dave’s voice. We practiced deep breathing and slow yoga stretches to strengthen his tight limbs and weakened muscles.
Together we decided positivity was the only path forward. Life, living, loving and laughter would be the focus – no other narrative would be allowed to penetrate his daily determination to fight.
Laughter, human’s best medicine, became a daily vitamin. Old Seinfeld episodes, Key and Peele comedy sketches . . . anything and everything that made him laugh was now essential.
Luke made it through the first round of chemo and radiation with flying colors. He is still here with us. He is fighting every day. We are setting our hopes on a new clinical trial, praying he gets accepted into the program and that the experimental drug prolongs his life and defeats the cancer for good.
“How was your year?” she asked. “Centering, perspective-filled, life-focusing,” I said with a heart full of gratitude for this moment.