This is much harder than I thought.
The drugs that you are administered when dealing with cancer eat at not only the disease but the memories you have. The cloudy nature of life and people become jumbled, interspersed in details that might not be accurate. I gave up writing for a large part of January because of that. My brain was forgetting details, the essence of the experience was being lost. There was a point where I thought I might have written my last anything. But then things cleared up. There are still times when I’m confused, asking for people who aren’t there. Transposing dates so that my mind is only dealing with the pain of my physical being is another fun event. But I know what my last words would be –
“I love you Bug!”
They are words I say to myself constantly. Every holiday, every time I see a small child, every time my neighbor’s daughter comes over and drops off a card, it brings me back to that memory. The constant pounding in my chest is gone, replaced by a dull thud. When we were first trying to figure out when to talk to our families about the impending birth, we nicknamed her “Bug”. Every morning it was “Hug the Bug”, every time Whitney wanted to joke about the kid poking her way around it was “the Bug” is trying to escape. Those words mean more to me than anything else on the planet. Hearing them makes me well up with pride and rips my heart out at the same time.
“You are surrounded by a great, white light.”
I argue religion with anyone who wants to just for fun. I’m not against any religion, just some of the ways people practice it. But I do cling to the hope that I will someday be reunited with my daughter. That means I actually believe in an afterlife! A friend has told me that she hopes her daughter is playing with mine in heaven, I hope that too.
As I sit in this oversized chair, pressing the keys of my tablet trying to get it all straight; I hope this makes sense. The afghan my mother made me wrapped around my legs, the sweatshirt Whitney gave my keeping me warm, a faded Red Sox cap sitting on my head. Pictures of people flash in the background of my screensaver, some who I wish I had the strength to call, others I wish had the strength to be here.
I hate these thoughts! I hate that I still love someone with such intensity that I worry about her! Maybe this wasn’t the prompt for me to participate in. It’s definitely time to stop…
The words that come before are important, but my last words will be “I love you Bug!”