Hard Days

Today has been a hard day. I need to type a little before I go to sleep. So that I can sleep.

A friend and I went to the hospital today and delivered thank you cards to those who cared for our mutual friend who died from cancer nearly 4 weeks ago. I hadn't been back there since the last time I sat with my friend. I think I was on auto pilot a little bit, today. There are many moments when I can't wrap my head around the fact that she is gone. I sat and watched as people got dropped off outside the front doors of the hospital. I sat where I normally sat to wait for my friend. It was a beautifully sunshiny day and we would have gone outside after her treatment and enjoyed the sun. I miss her.

I had my own appointments to attend and those went well. Skirted around needing oxygen although that brings me mixed feelings. I would love to feel rested and I think oxygen would help me with that. I am just a few numbers above the cut off line to qualify for government funded at home oxygen. On the other hand I am not tied to a machine and hoses 24/7. Some days I admit to being weary of feeling weary.

I went from the hospital directly to the vet's office where we sent our little dog over the rainbow bridge. For the first time in 30 years we have no dog to call our own. It's just sad. And empty. Well, except for youngest son's Doberman and Great Dane. One of them likes to crawl into bed and sleep at my feet. The other one likes to think he's a lap dog. A 130+ lb. lap dog. They fill the void but they aren't our own.

Our youngest son and his newborn son are living with us. We are getting lots of baby snuggles and those are healing. It's a complicated situation that has the baby's mom largely out of the picture. Situations that are bittersweet circumvent normal celebrations that a new born baby brings. It's hard.

Our older son was diagnosed with cancer in March. He is in between his first and second rounds of chemo. I think he can check off experiencing nearly every side effect of chemo. The other night I watched as he held his head in his hands and let the tears flow for a little bit. I felt my own tears rise to the surface and I swallowed them. You so want to make it all better for your kids no matter what their age. And you can't. You try and do what you can to ease the load knowing full well that there is a place in a cancer journey that is solo and belongs only to the patient. The one that goes on in their head when the world is asleep. Please pray.

Earlier this week I listened to two different people share their journey with me as they walk the road of recovery from addiction. Doing my best to hold space for them to gain greater self awareness and drop the heavy load of self judgement that can weigh one down. For one of those people I sat in the same group treatment room at the rehab I went to all those years ago. Wanting recovery takes courage, honesty and willingness along with a dose of desperation. It is a privilege to walk with others on this path.

It's way past my bedtime, now. I had a friend who used to say, when times were hard, that she was grateful for a night between two days. Tonight, so am I.