Time stops the moment a doctor tells you or your loved one that there isn’t much they can do to prolong life. But then, the earth shatters around you, and you start to fall down, down, down swallowed up by the enormity of your grief.
For me, it happened consciously the first time with my little boy Cory’s leukemia diagnosis at age three. I swear the bottom dropped out of my world. I plunged ass over teakettle through space. I remember wanting to cry out, but I was alert enough not to scare my little guy as he was playing on the floor nearby. With each relapse, I went down that rabbit hole again. Then, five and a half years later, the inevitable “it’s a central nervous system relapse.”…blah blah blah. I was flung headfirst down that stupid dark hole.
As you can imagine I was devastated when my grandfather, uncle, and first love died. In retrospect the dark hole felt more like deep sadness, regret and depression.
I am no stranger to grief. Time after time, saying goodbye to loved ones shattered my foundation. I have bid goodbye to both of my parents, aunties, uncles, cousins, dear friends, my sweet sister-in-law, my dear father-in-law, and my beloved younger brother. It doesn’t matter how they died or whether it was expected or not. But, just like death, the dark hole does not discriminate.
Sadly just as Covid started to infect our world, my youngest daughter was diagnosed with the same leukemia that killed my son. Again, I felt swallowed up by a giant dark sinkhole. Keili is two years into her treatments, and there is light at the end of the tunnel.
I was starting to feel like the ground was terra firma again. My husband’s uncle is just a few years older and facing the worst possible news. My heart aches for him and his family as they are certainly trying to cope with the horror of the earth-shattering diagnosis. My heart hurts for my mother-in-law as the diagnosis triggers the pain she experienced when her daughter was diagnosed with the same damn cancer her younger brother now faces. We are all devastated but don’t want to give up hope for a miracle.
Climbing up out of that hole is getting harder and harder, but don’t give up! Instead, I recommend that you stay focused on getting through one day at a time, counting your blessings, and always looking for positive moments to remember.
If you believe in the power of prayer, we would appreciate it tremendously if you could please pray for my daughter’s continued progress and my husband’s dear uncle’s miraculous healing.