A Vulnerable and Holy Place

Here it is already a week into May and I'm having difficulty beginning my monthly blog post! That is unusual, but our family is finding itself in a situation that seems indescribable. Words elude me!

When the cancer specialist's secretary called and asked us to confirm our decision to have palliative care instead of chemo for Hardy, I lost it. It felt like I had just confirmed a death sentence!

So I keep busy and it helps me to regain my equilibrium, to manage my fear and uncertainty and my grief at what is to come. There is so much to do!  Husband Hardy (whose second name is hoarder--note the alliteration!) never throws anything away, so I have been in the garage filling the garbage and recycling bins to the top every week.

When I'm not cleaning out the garage, I'm in the backyard raking leaves, stuffing them into bags, composting. The other day there was a dead mouse just lying there in the middle of the yard. Normally I would have freaked, called Hardy and he would have taken care of it. Instead, I just stood and looked at it. It was so perfect. I wondered how it had died, as it had no marks on it. I marvelled at how beautiful it actually looked, before I scooped it into the garbage bin. 

Writing is usually a healing process for me, but I had no words, except one: The word palliative, repeating itself in my head. My sister took me out for lunch and I told her about it. She looked at me and said, "We are all 'palliative.'  I could die tomorrow, you could die today. None of us are exempt from that process, we just don't think about it."

I needed to hear those words to get my equilibrium back.

She also gifted me with a book that day. This book released something in me and helped me write about how I feel.

"When people allow you to know about their pain and talk about it, take your shoes off. You're standing in a holy place. Be humble, be kind, when someone shows you vulnerability."                                    [Amani Gohar]