For...

Among haphazardly stringing lights and positioning bulbs on the tree, my mom brought out the yearly new ornament. She held it up to show me, and said she'd purchased it from a tiny store, run by a lady, Deb, in a small town. Deb resided above her little shop, and admitted to my mother and friend, that she had given in and turned the heat on because she was sure the customers wouldn't appreciate browsing in the cold.   As they all got chatting, as folks in small towns do, Deb revealed that she had had a recurrence of cancer, and that her 28 year old son was recently diagnosed as well. Her concern was entirely focused on her sons health, and she confessed that if she knew he wouldn't make it, she would lose all hope.  My mother bought a few of these beautiful ornaments from said store, perhaps subconsciously to support a small business owner, but more likely with the intention of putting something beautiful on our tree. As we put them on, she said aloud; "Deb has lit up our tree".  I then added the other, saying a little hopeful piece, "I wish you well, Deb". A moment later, while blinking my wet eyes, my mom told me about a similar meeting she had over the weekend. This time, the cancer had near immobilized a 24 year old girl who'd recently graduated and now was facing terminal cancer. My mother saw her stiffly shuffling through the store with the aid of a walker.  As I imagine with many terminal illnesses, the physical ramifications are startling, especially in someone so young.  I asked my mom out of curiosity, how it is she looked. "Gray, thin and serious". Exactly as you'd imagine.  

Or, maybe not. My moms cousin--one of the wittiest people I've ever known--is undergoing both radiation and chemotherapy, as she puts it, to "kick cancer in the ass". Literally. She's battling anal cancer.  Not a pretty thing to think about, maybe, but she'll find a joke in everything.  

I lost my Grampa to cancer last March. It was sudden. As a result of surgery. But it seems this disease is spreading throughout my life more than ever.  

I have no other reason to be writing and sharing this, other than complete a need to vocalize how these stories have affected me. I'm sure they've affected us all and will, unfortunately, continue to do so.

So, I guess this is for you Deb. For the 24 year old. For my mom's cousin. For my grampa that didn't make it. And for those of you who may be reading this with the same reality.   A wish that your battle is courageous and successful.