This post is going to be very honest.*
Steven's mother was diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer in September. We received knowledge yesterday that her hospice nurses believe her time will come to an end three painfully short weeks into the new year. While I'm typing this, making the statement more real, my jaw is clenched and I'm grinding my teeth. There is no humanly way that this is possible.
This family is made up of some of the strongest people I know. They, we, put on a brave face everyday and proceed to do anything and everything possible to not show how much we are hurting.
Being made aware of a cancer is one emotion.
Being given a specific and gut-wrenchingly close deadline is every emotion.
It's everything. It's your heart breaking over Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving...hell, even Columbus Day without her. It's the overwhelming sadness in understanding that your children will never get to sit and play with their grandmother, our pillar of love. It's planning a wedding at a distance, because it is what's best, yet desperately needing affirmation of her presence. It's the ring on my finger that makes me feel so entirely loved. It's Steven, his strength and his ability to handle sorrow and grief with nobility and grace. It's too much, yet not nearly enough.
I have to tell you that no matter how many books, movies and self-help articles I've encountered involving these circumstances, nothing prepares for the weight of life ending far too soon.
*Everyday, I am changing the rules of this blog. So it goes. Today, this blog is my journal.
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