one year

Today marks the one year anniversary of Andy's cancer diagnosis.  One year ago today Andy was wheeled into surgery for "emergency" removal of a kidney that they expected had been enlarging since birth and had hit maximum capacity. They didn't expect to find cancer.

The news (delivered to me and Andy's mom that afternoon, while he was still too drugged to understand) was beyond devastating. The words rare, aggressive, un-treatable were used.  It's true that the walls closed in, my mind and body swooned, I couldn't even think how to get out of the consult room and take the next step back into the waiting room. How could this be happening?

That confusion, anger, disbelief and most strongly, fear, have visited us again and again since that day. It has woken us in the night with racing hearts and short breaths.  It has come calling during the many, many visits to doctors.  It sits with us at breakfast, while we read to the children at bed, while we garden, pitch hay, grocery shop, walk to the mailbox and have dinner with friends.

But here's the thing.  We have learned that it, is not us.  We refuse to give it that.  We've worked to redefine this "cancer diagnosis" to the experience that it is.  Raw, terrifying, sickening, but also...

hopeful, enlightening, empowering, and growth-giving far beyond our wildest expectations.

We are learning that:

It is possible to love someone more deeply and completely than ever, even with fear sitting on your shoulder.

It is possible to do the hard work of delving depths of emotional despair in order to release and move forward.

It is possible to pull compassion from somewhere (maybe thin air) when your children need it most.

It is possible to be quiet and let your intuition speak.

It is possible to begin to understand sacredness and grace in ways that eluded you before.

It is possible to let yourself be held by the love of family, friends and community.

It is possible to find hope.

Today we built a fire in the woods. The kids worked on repairing the bark house.  We sat quietly, and we talked.  We sent prayers of gratitude and strong intentions for continued healing up with the smoke of the fire.  We asked for blessings for our friends, our family, and ourselves.

One year. So many moments full of love, growth and healing.