Life in Balance

It is December, the ending of the year but the beginning of the holidays.  In the past, Christmas has been so magical, exciting and extraordinary.  I never lost my childlike wonder for this time of year, until now.  The sky is crying and creating puddles of cold water all over the ground.  The dampness seeps into my bones and I take two showers a day to stay warm.  Thanksgiving is over, but I have not visited the tree farm or decorated the house.   Every morning I wake, and I remember.  Anguish washes over my mind and into my body.

My daughter is at deaths door and I am terrified.  It is a small victory each morning, when I check to make sure there was no bad news overnight that she was sent to the ER or suffering further setback.  As long as she has breath, she is alive.  She has physically deteriorated to something I call existence, not life.  I cannot fathom what she is thinking in her deepest soul.  I look at her eyes and they are mostly vacuous. She slowly shuffles a few steps a day, prompted by her husband, but has hours of immobility.  She can't feed, dress or take care of herself.  The cancer is ravaging her her body without pause, the drugs stripping her essence.  Every treatment ends in pain, all avenues of remission at a dead end.

I ask God every day to take my life instead of hers.   I was just relearning to survive Dean's absence, but how will I go on without my daughter?  My beautiful, loving, kind, creative, smart, first born baby.  There are not enough adjectives to convey who she really is.  I pray and cry every day, but she continues to deteriorate.  I ask for a miracle, but never receive an answer.  I struggle to understand Gods plan.

Christmas is my daughters favorite time of year.  She still has childlike wonder for Jesus's birthday.  Even as the tumors consume her brain, she watches holiday movies from bed. One of her favorites is Christmas with The Kranks.  Her only Christmas gift request, a vest, like the one the mom wears in that movie.  My heart breaks every breath to see her suffering.  She cannot be part of the joy she normally experiences with her family during this time of year, instead, lies in a bed, struggling to stay alive.  I watch her husband suffering just as I did only two winters ago and its agonizing.  I see his terror and anguish and I wish I could fix it.  They are so young and it's so unfair.

Her illness is uncannily parallel to Deans.  I struggle to remain hopeful, since his demise was so tragic.  Only this time, five little faces stare at me, sad and confused, struggling to understand what is happening to their mom.  How do I find some happiness every day?  How do I celebrate a holiday, knowing my daughter is suffering?  How do I comprehend the meaning of all this?

I continue to pray for a miracle.  I have no control, so I am left with searching for answers.  In the mean time, the tears fall and the sadness grows and I struggle to find strength to be there for my five grand babies.