Someone told me the other day that it has been predicted that the world will end sometime in December. And I said, “Hasn’t it been predicted that the world would end every year for the past 20 years?” It is a bit like The Price is Right – whoever makes the best guess without going over is the winner. I don’t know – I guess one day the world will end for us all in one way or another, so why worry with the predictions.
But then my mom gets a phone call with a different kind of prediction. “It’s a matter of days, now.”
My aunt, who is one of the strongest willed people I’ve ever known, is facing her last days. Breast cancer that was caught too late and spread to her brain. It’s completely tragic and heartbreaking. And I wonder what is going through her mind (though I’m not sure she is able to even think much at this point with medication). I wonder what she would have done differently. I wonder if she has regrets. I wonder if there are people she wanted to tell that she loved them.
We all have regrets. And I guarantee there are many things we would have done differently, right?
I’m well aware that I’m one of the lucky ones. My diagnosis could have been different. There are many who have said, “Jen, you’ve been so positive through this” to which I have to respond, “I don’t know that I would have been this positive with a different diagnosis.”
I’m lucky, though, in a lot of ways. Lucky that through this I’ve been able to see my life truly as a second chance. Lucky that it has caused me to be a little more intentional about my actions. Lucky that I see Gerron and Emma and Henley in a whole new way. Lucky that I realize I’m lucky.
The end is near for me. Radiation is basically over. I have a few more restrictions to live with and can’t hold my babies as much or as close as I want to. I’m writing this from the guest room of some incredibly generous (and very fun) friends who let me stay with them. (And, let me add, Eric Johnson can bake a mad apple pie.) Yes, though there will be a lifetime of doctor appointments and such, the end of this part of the journey is near.
I hope to God that I don’t go on living like it never happened.
I hope that every time I look at this scar (which I am growing fond of) I will smile a little wider, hug my girls a little tighter, look deeper into the eyes of my soul mate, and generally be reminded of this good life.
And whether or not the end is near . . . know that God is most certainly near.
I hope you are able to see him in your life today.