I read somewhere that Cancer takes everything from you. I refuse to accept this.
Yesterday started rough for me. After traveling all day and not getting much sleep the night before, I woke up moody. So did the baby. We were both a little ornery and sleepy. My brother and his two little kids came over and spent time with us, making the afternoon get better and fly by.
The day got better as we relaxed into a new normal. Life at my father’s house is much different from life at home. My only goals each day are to help dad with anything he needs, work on college homework, and keep the tiny human alive and happy.
At home, I also have to homeschool a 9-year-old, clean the house, and try to find time to work on projeccts around the house. There are so many things I want to do it’s hard to settle into one task. I was working, but COVID took my job away. Granted, I was on personal leave to travel. It still stinks to know the job is gone when I need it.
Anyway, back to my point.
Last night, after a pretty chaotic day, my granddaughter and I were relaxing in the living room with dad, watching a movie. She has been hesitant to get close to him but she curled up on the couch with him for awhile and I snapped a couple of pictures. We had a couple of hours of amazing conversation. And we spent some of it in silence. That’s the way with my dad. Quiet reflection seems to happen a lot.
Last night we made another batch of memories that cancer cannot take from us. He may not live to see Katarinah grow up. Then again, he might. Watching him relax with the baby, and snuggle with my brother’s children, gives me peace knowing that even if he doesn’t survive long, we have these memories to tell them about when they are older. And I have had a chance to settle a few misunderstandings between my father and I, things that festered under the surface for way too long.
These are just some of the things cancer won’t take from me.
Cathy Marie Bown 