I had a rough night of sleep last night. It might be due to the bit of pain that comes at night where the Foobs now live. It might be due to the random hot flashes that come in unscheduled waves. Or it might have been because I learned yesterday that one of my fellow fighters is now gone.
I had dreams of getting scans and blood work and anniversaries and cancer stuff. It was a restless night.
She’s gone.
We met, just for a brief moment. Just one day. We chatted about being the same… 2a… she was going to finish rads that week. And we didn’t talk after that. Not because of any reason. Just because life.
I am busy thriving. She was still trying to survive. According to her friend who shared the news with me, hers had spread. It was stage 4. Triple negative. And gosh, it must have gone fast.
Tears.
Damn it.
It isn’t right. It isn’t right that Julie had to lose her battle. And of course, it’s a big dose of reality for me.
After Christmas, after the New Year, I will come up on my one year out. And then an MRI will happen. One year post-cancer free on February 25. And it does scare me. Not so much fear that I feel scared every day. But enough that is a gentle reminder, apparently in my sleep.
I know… I seem back to normal, right? I have hair. I have boobs. I laugh. I smile. I am happy. And I have been lucky enough to find a new normal. But I am perhaps, the happiest, because I have reminders everywhere that Julie and I share so many similarities. And yet for some reason, I get to be here. And she doesn’t. And while it doesn’t seem right that Julie’s death should make me selfishly think of my story, I think that’s just human nature. She was triple negative… I was triple positive. But we were both mothers. Wives. Friends. And dreamers. Faithful women. Happy women.
It was just such a shock. To see the words. “She lost her fight…” What do you mean she lost her fight?! We were fighting the same thing… at the same time?!?
To Julie… you girl, you didn’t deserve to lose your fight. I am so sad to learn that you did. It. Sucks. But cancer doesn’t care what anyone deserves. It just takes over.
This holiday season will surely be unbearable for Julie’s family. It will feel like the saddest of all the sadness that life can bring. Because even though I am sure that she is with the angels, her family will feel empty without her.
Of all the things I would love for Christmas, it would be a cure for cancer. I know. It’s not possible today it seems. But hey, Christmas miracles happen, right?
The holiday season… it’s something that brings me endless joy. And I will bask in that even more from here on out. Life… it’s something that I am so thankful to have and experience and be able to be healthy for. And I cannot forget that, not for a day… because, Julie. It doesn’t mean one can never have a bad day. Or that everything has to be rosey and jolly and joyful. That’s not real life. But it is a reminder. A dose of perspective. Real.
Cancer… it’s the unfairest of the unfair.
To Julie, the angel, I am glad you don’t have to hurt anymore, be in pain, or be sick. But I wish the monster didn’t get to take your life from your body. I can only be comforted knowing that God is holding you now. I know we only met for a short moment. But my heart is sad today. And I will say a prayer for your family. And for all who share our battles.
She’s gone. But she won’t be forgotten.
Could you say a prayer for Julie’s family today?
