Down But Not Out

Nap time with Mom and Dad

Dear Pepsi,

You are one tough girl. I thought we might loose you Sunday evening with all the blood you were coughing up. Dad rushed to get here on a red eye form California, Rena came late Monday, and Jonathan Tuesday morning. You showed us what you are made of and that it is not time yet. By the afternoon when we went to you oncology appointment you were perky and happy to be visiting everyone at the clinic. We had a long talk with Dr. Phillibert and we decided to discontinue the chemo treatment. The cancer is fast moving, and despite aggressive treatment, it has gone into your lungs. We are continuing the Yunnan Baiyo (life saver), herbs, and your holistic treatment. I know you have no idea what cancer is, or why you are being subjected to so many medical appointments and procedures; however,  you know something is up. You speak to me with your eyes, and while I know you are tired, I also know you are not ready to leave us. Not yet.  

Waiting for the family to get here

You get lots of rest. You cough but so far no more blood. Your energy spikes and you are ready to play with Pearl or your toys. You bark at dad while he eats, your appetite is normal and most of the time it is still hard to believe you are so sick. The deception makes it hard to consider the reality that you could leave us at any minute. It is cruel and unforgiving. I am doing my best to be in the moment with you, inhale your presence, and bask in your love. Tears fall, my heart is still slowing breaking; however, I am not ungrateful for the fact that you are still here. Dr. Phillibert talked about the roller coaster and how difficult and exhausting it is for all of us. I am drained of energy and go to sleep at 8:30pm most nights. I want to be home with you all the time. We all snuggle in bed and watch TV, read, and doze. I think about taking you to the beach but worry it will be too much. You start coughing when you get excited so I err on the side of caution. I am greedy for every minute with you because the truth is I cannot conceive of life without you. I happily shut the world out and retreat to our little cocoon. 

Napping with Dad

Outside of our little world there are big changes. You know nothing from elections and a new world order. Trust me when I say it is scary and ominous. Watching you fight and hang on against the odds is my inspiration and source of strength. You remind me of what is good in the world, what has always been good despite political upheaval, dictators, racism, and all other kinds of oppression. There is turbulence, yet being with you provides a stillness and connection to an eternal energy that transcends our mortality. You elevate me from the sadness I feel myself drowning in - about loosing you, the bleak prospects in the aftermath of this election, and a general sense of foreboding that is hard to avoid. I want to choose hope, identify an opening, no matter how visibly small the crack may be. You will leave such a void behind for me to grapple with. I want to assure you I will be fine but we both know that is not true. I will; however, take your goodness forward as best I can, put the capacity for love you have abundantly given me to good use.  You are my bringer of joy, of solace, laughter, and steady and loving companionship. You will never not be at my feet as I write and paint, when the surf rolls up catching us off guard, when I walk through the door on a tough day. I owe you so much. In these last hours, days, weeks or months - whatever I am fortunate to have - I will do whatever it is you need me to do. You'll let me know they said, and when you do, I promise to keep up my end of the bargain. Until then, let's celebrate every precious second. 

Love you Peps,

Mom