Courage, and blinders. The two ingredients you’ll need to see the end of life as a celebration. Courage allows us to feel the hurt, while simultaneously letting the joy seep into our hearts. Blinders came in handy too — you’ll need those to stop yourself from looking beside you to see that the next steps will be taken without her. With the blinders, we can look behind and see what grew on the path when we weren’t looking. There are now trees, (huge ones) flowers and lush things growing where nothing was blooming before — just because of the path she took. That’s the kind of permanence we’re really looking for.
Her absence faces my boys at school, and they are grappling with the vastness of the void she left, in the flesh. It’s something they can’t comprehend. My 6-year-old now calls Breast Cancer “Breath Cancer.” I’m not correcting him, because it does take your “breath;” and the breath of everyone around. I wait for the various ways the boys are processing this to tumble out of their mouths, and I am in awe over the depth of empathy they have. But there is confusion and fear. There is the sense of feeling “out of control” and how can breath cancer be stopped.
Today, if they bring it up, I will focus on the awe-inspiring legacy she left, and show them how to stretch their hearts a little bit to see the celebration in the sorrow. The place of honor.
Having recently lost a very dear friend to cancer this post moves me more than I can say. Your boys are lucky to have you to guide their steps through the struggle with loss and acceptance. Love and hugs.
Well said, Sus.
This is beautiful.