We seek meaning in our fractured lives, whether as patients or as families of patients.  And we often find it in small things, even hidden in drawers like memory.  We sometimes come across meaning without trying,  so that it seems serendipitous though it could also have been predestined.  This is how Valerie discovered the crumbs of her own resolution.  She writes her blog as a tribute to her daughter, Megan Bosselman, who died Easter Sunday 2008 at the age of twenty-seven, from a rare and aggressive adrenal cortical cancer. from:  The World As I See It….

The Low-Down on Downsizing

I made up my mind when Megan passed away that I would take my time on sorting through her things, and nobody was going to bully me into thinking they knew best. It was my daughter (as she was dying) that gave me the courage to see how I should live my life. Megan was completely clear that her body had been pieced apart; by chemo, by radiation, by the loss of an adrenal gland and kidney, and ultimately by cancer taking siege of her very life. Yet, before she died she left everything to me, saying she did not want ‘the others’ coming in like locusts…piecing apart her personal possessions. (Editor’s note: You need to watch the television series Lost to appreciate the significance of the words ‘the others’)

It must have been the grace of God Almighty that I was able to navigate through her death (and the weeks after) with a sense of control. While there are no advantages to having a daughter die slowly of an aggressive cancer, there are positive points to having time to think through what you and your loved-one want. I had lots of time prior to her death. I absolutely knew what I wanted, and no well-meaning relative was going to decide for me.

The truth is for me, and most readers, that your sincere family and friends would love to come in, void of your feelings and emotions, and box up the life of the person you just laid to rest. Somewhere there is a line of thinking that says it’s more emotionally healthy to clear out the old clothes and personal items immediately. Resist the temptation to let ‘the others’ decide for you.

The day after Megan’s funeral, for whatever crazy reason that I need not defend, I had Aunt Shirley load up all of Megan’s intimate undergarments and my cousin Garry drove them to The Goodwill. There was something so wildly personal about her Victoria’s Secret underwear, and her slutty, lacy bras bought on e-bay, and the “I can’t imagine anyone would wear panties that climb up the crack of your-you-know-what” thong underwear. I made the decision that I would let them go immediately, lest I become the crazy mom who spent my days clutching my daughter’s personal items. Megan would yell at me for being a loon, and I resisted the temptation by the immediate removal of those items. Remember, I decided. It was the right time for me.

Be clear on the fact that the only thing that was immediately removed were her undergarments. It’s been a slow process on other items over the last 22 months. So many times, I just knew. I just knew it was time to let go…I knew where Megan would want that item to go…I knew I was ready to let go. My favorite story was about a month after her death. I opened a drawer to behold countless headbands. They ranged from glittery rhinestones to classy velvet. When my girl had hair, she adorned it with beautiful accessories. Opening the drawer I thought, “What in the world am I going to do with these?”

To my surprise, that question was immediately answered. An old friend e-mailed me that day to inquire about my well-being. He went on to say that his daughter, Jillian, had a headband of Megan’s that she wore every night to bed. Jillian told her dad she thought of Megan every time she pulled it through her hair. Megan, who was Jillian’s babysitter, had given the headband to her many years prior. I had no idea. Megan would weep in that knowledge. It made me cry thinking that most every single night, in health and sickness, the girl Megan used to babysit was thinking of MY girl. In a moment, I just knew where the headbands should go.

I know many of my friends/relatives wanted to box up Megan’s things to spare me from further heartache. The truth of the matter is they would have also denied me the joy of boxing up part of my daughter’s lifetime, and mailing it to a vibrant young woman named Jillian.

from: The World As I See It….

cancer

Gemma Bryn & Molly Adele (or vise-versa)

Mom and babies doing fine.  No need for NICU.  Coming home from hospital on Sunday.  We’ll be traveling to Boston after Christmas.

I am always amazed that it takes me just a few minutes to find a blog post worthy of reprinting as our week’s Guest Post.  Heather is a breast cancer survivor.  Thanksgiving this year, her second since diagnosis, caused her to reflect on her life since.  This is her first post at Being Cancer and she joins our Honor Roll fior Excellence in Writing.  She writes at her blog Heather’s Journey

Moments Like These

It was hard to be totally in the present moment this Thanksgiving. My mind kept slipping back to the distorted memories I have of last year. I was so incredibly sick. Just trying to get through. By this time, I’d been on the journey of Breast Cancer five months. I had been on this leg of the journey by myself in many of ways. My book will have a chapter about relationships, and how for most young woman, divorce is quite common. I don’t want to talk about it here, as there are too many readers, and I want to be really conscious of it. I don’t want to blurt out my feelings and dishonour his. Because, I was not in his shoes. I was only in mine. In the long run, it was a blessing. Cancer brought non-actions, words, and detachments that slashed through any cord that made us strong, which made an the ending.
I think, I have so much pain in me. Why is it that in our modern living of life we think that the end is not apart of the experience? Even the word apart. It is together. It could be a part. Together. One. One experience. Silly me, for thinking I was ready to start writing my book. Or even that I was ready to sit with myself in a place to write it, when I haven’t even finished the end of the race. I mean, I crossed the finish line. I ran through my pink ribbon (oh!! that’s a good idea to incorporate that into rituals for woman when they are done…have I told you guys that ONE of the many things I am going to start doing for BC survivors, is creating rituals for them to do with their friends and loved ones to mark the end).
I had an incredible week with family and dear loved ones. I drove down to Eugene, and spent a lot of time thinking. I love rode trips for this reason. Tears came and went. Once I got to my little nephew, meditating on his little ears was incredibly sweet. So little. An ache or two, or three, for my absence of a little ear. I slept next to him every night, my Sis on his other side. He is such a squirm worm!! That part is easy. That part is blood. That part, doesn’t hurt. It is simply love. Never~ending.
My best friend, Gen surprised me the night before Turkey day, with a call that said, “I just landed in Eugene.” What!????!!! Crazy! A wonderful surprise.
I spent a day with her. She understands my depth of loss. We spent the day with our friend Renee, who lost her mom to Breast Cancer, at the age of 13. We shared lots of heart opening conversations, to the point that I just had to stop it a few times. Being reduced to a pool of tears, is not in this soldiers desire right now.
Right now, I am just trying to become whole again. I’ve been living alone since June, and I threw myself into the Zone Of How Much Fun Can Heather Have At a Drop of a Hat, Constantly.
…. Spirit really has had me in the palm of “Yes, you are right were your supposed to be” feeling since I left D, now almost five months ago. This retreat, is going to be where I become whole again. I can grab all my fragments of self, and come together. The next month, well….in just three days, I leave for a girls surf trip to Sayulita. And then I am giving myself one more month of lots of fun, interspersed with lots of counseling.
I am seeing my cancer therapist again, starting when I get back. She mentioned that she thought I had PTSD – Post Traumatic Stress Disorder…Uhhmmm..ahhh…YES! What part of this year was not full and filled with this.
I need to go get the pre-cancer Heather. I need to go get cancer Heather. And then I need to get the post-cancer Heather. And cuddle with all of them on a really soft soft blanket, and do yoga with them, and dab their tears, and hear their tears, and try to comfort them. They all are in shock. To be a soldier and pass this by would be a grave mistake. I do not want to pass this opportunity up. I deserve to be still. They deserve to be still. I deserve to be in the anguish, and the pain. This is what life is about. I am always such a bright lighted and happy person. But, I just went through hell. And hell wasn’t full of roses. It was horrible. Horrible with lots of medications that luckily let me be hazy and forgetful, so that I could do another dose of toxic almost kill Heather, but for sure kill the cancer stuff.
The end is here. But I need to have another ribbon to cross. To break. There will be another ceremony. Another rites of passage I did not see, nor deem needed until this moment.
This Winter will be all about me. Living by myself, for the first time. Healing myself…..Here I come. Mexico, Girls time…Oh! Yeah! Baby!!!! Lots of fun.
I guess there is a fear in walking into the sadness into the gray, into the rainbow of grief, that I won’t be happy. I have never ever ever, ever in my life been a wallower. So I probably won’t wallow. But I do deserve to be with them, and me, and witness the rebirth of my new woman. There is power in this. Instead of walking through life trying to act, react, and feel in a fragmented body. That does not work.
I am excited now. It won’t all be sad, Heather. It is going to be empowering. You have another mile to go.

from: Heather’s Journey