Touching story of a man who sees cancer as his gift

My husband told me a touching story the other night. The story about a man we know who looked death in the eye only to experience the greatest joy he has ever felt. The story of a man who told my husband that if he had to do it all again, he would not change a single thing. You see this man is fighting cancer – an aggressive cancer that came out of the blue. A cancer that nearly claimed him on several occasions. A cancer that has caused him so much pain. Yet he sees this cancer, his cancer as a gift, as something he would not change.

Through cancer this man has been able to see with clear eyes the suffering in the world. So much pain that he was not aware of before or had chosen to ignore. He has seen people with the fronts of their face completely ravaged by cancer but still these people encourage him on and tell him he is going to be okay. He has seen children, young children, as skeletal as he was during his worst who still find reason to play and have fun.

He has heard the anguish of a mother who wanted the doctors to know she could not die because she has children. Heard her anguished cries to save her from death. To give her more time. And then when she realized she was not alone in the room, walked to his curtains, opened them, stood and looked at him. Their eyes locking. Their souls connecting. Their stories told to each other without words ever being spoken. Their shared pain understood in that twenty second frame. An intimate moment, without uttering a word, connecting them on a level he has never connected with anyone in his life before. Letting him know there is more to communication than words. More to life than we can ever understand until we face our own mortality. Our own glimpse into death.

He told my husband about the day he asked to walk outside after undergoing intense chemo treatments. Robbing him of his vitality and strength. Refusing a taxi ride to the apartment he was to share with his wife for the weekend because he felt the urge to be outside. Felt the urge to feel and experience life. Not through a window. Not through an enclosure but through being in it. And when he got outside, he looked up and around and saw life through the eyes of a child experiencing it for the first time – the blue sky, the green grass, the abundance and vividness of colour from the flowers and he began to sob. Uncontrollably sob because what he was taking in was life at its very best in its simplest form. The beauty of nature. He was seeing and experiencing pure and unadulterated joy in a way he had never experienced it before.

He fell to the ground - his senses overwhelmed and titillated by the beauty he was experiencing through the eyes of a man who had been to hell and back again during his chemo treatments. Rendering him speechless because he was so full of joy. So full of life. So full of gratitude. His wife panicking thinking he was in pain. Not realizing what he was experiencing was an appreciation for the beauty that we walk past every single day. The beauty we take for granted. The beauty we do not see or appreciate because it is so every day. So passé.

My husband, without realizing it, was the man’s angel for the day. Allowing him to express all the joy and life he has experienced as a result of his pain. As a result of his cancer. As a result of his brush with death.  My husband said he knew the man needed him on a level he could not explain so he stood and let the man talk. Let the man cry. Let the man feel and express the romance of the life he was living as a result of his pain.

And when the man was done, my husband hugged him and told him he was honored to have had the opportunity to listen and to experience what the man had experienced. That he was honored to have shared such an intimate moment with the man. And then their time was done. Each walking away a different man. One whose burden was less heavy and the other whose step was much lighter.

Because what the man did not realize was that he was my husband’s angel as well. Reminding him about the joy of life from its simplicity. Nudging him to know how quickly life can change and how he too must appreciate living as much as he can.

Two men brought together, my husband and this man, to remind each other there is no greater joy than gratitude and living life as fully as they can. Tears of pain that lead to tears of joy. Joy and pain. Pain and joy – one in the same. Two men in a parking lot framed by life itself. In all its joy and pain. In all their joy and pain. Namaste.

Life has a funny way of rooting us

Life has a funny way of bringing us

Back to the centre

The Universe has an interesting way 

Of answering us

Giving us 

What we ask for

The direction 

We need

The insight 

About life

Rooting us back

To the present moment

By sending us death

Reminding us that death is waiting for us

It is around the corner

And there is no escaping it

All of us were born to die

We each have a death sentence

And at some point 

Our maker will come

To take us back home

Yesterday I wrote about my vulnerabilities

Expressed them

Put them out there

Released them

Surrendered them

Did not dwell on them

Just let them go

Opening the door

For my truth to enter

Allowing room for it to come

And when it came

It came as two not one

Reminding me

Nudging me to know

I was being shown the way

Given the insight

To remember

My life is short

Very, very short

And that no moment 

Is promised 

To anyone

Death comes in many ways

The complete removal of our physical being

Or the removal of us from situations that no longer resonate with us

And I saw both those things happen yesterday

Both to people I know

One who was told he was no longer needed

That his time had come

And it was time to move on

A blast to his ego

A blow to his dream

But was it really

Or was it a wakeup call

To know that he did not heed the signs

So the signs stopped

Ending the road for him

To show him the new way

To help him to go where he is meant to go

Then later I discovered that a friend had died

Moved from this physical space

Back to the maker

Back to where he came from

Where we all come from

Young, gifted and still a long life ahead of him

Were the comments that came when his news broke

But who are we to say

Who are we to think

There is always tomorrow

When there is no tomorrow

It is only right here

Right now

This moment

And how we choose to live

In this moment

Is all that matters

I cried a tear last night

For the ones who have lost

And the ones who will lose

Including myself

Because death is calling

Rattling at my door

It is the only promise

We have

The only truth we know

But yet we all live

Like there is tomorrow

When tomorrow never comes

I hear you life

I am listening Universe

This is my life

And my life alone

This is my moment

And my moment alone

I have to live it

As truthfully

And fully as I can

Because there is no tomorrow

Tomorrow never comes

An Indescribable Pain gives me wings

May 18, 1976, I am standing on the hill hanging out with my friends. I see my da’s car snaking slowly down the hill. A chill runs through me. No matter how hard I try I can’t pull my eyes away from the car. My friends are shouting and playing around behind me. Having a good time. I feel like they are in a different dimension to me. Though I can hear them, I feel like they are far away. Muted sounds. Something deep within my core is chilled. It is only when the car moves out of my sight that I snap out of the trance. I shake my body. Hug myself. Letting the coldness seep out. I turn and go running back to my friends. Shaking the feelings of dread. Pushing them to the back of my mind.

A few hours later just before dusk, my brother comes looking for me. I know instantly when I see his face that something is wrong. Once again that feeling creeps back in.

“You need to come home,” he says.

“No, I’m having fun,” I answer.

“You need to come home now,” he says again, not smiling. Demanding.

I don’t want to go. I want to stay where I am. It feels safer here. But I go. He walks in front of me. Not speaking. Not looking at me. He disappears in the house before me. Leaves the door ajar behind him. I hear voices. Strange voices. My heart races. I walk through the kitchen door slowly. I feel like I am going to suffocate. The air is so thick. There are people here. People that aren’t usually here. And then I hear my sister say to someone on the phone, “She’s gone.”

I look at her. I look round the kitchen. And I know because I can’t breathe. I know because deep in my core something has broken. Died. I know and I scream, “Who’s gone? Who’s gone?” Over and over again. Like a broken record. Trying to drown out the news.

They stare at me. They don’t know what to say. A tear rolls down my sister’s face. I start to shake. I can’t breathe. I look from face to face. Then my little brother runs into the room. His little face broken. “Mama’s dead!” he cries. “Mama’s dead.” Like a broken record. Like a startled child.

And then I hear a piercing scream. And then I feel my body retch. And then I feel arms around me. Guiding me. Trying to protect me. And then I realise the scream is mine. The pain is mine. And I can’t stop it. They can’t stop it. No one can.

My worst nightmare has come true. My best friend. The love of my life. My mama is gone. Dead. Just like that. No goodbye. Nothing. Just disappeared. Gone. I feel like I have broken into a trillion, bazillion tiny little fragile pieces and I scream some more.

May 18, 2012 and I still feel the pain I felt when I heard the news. When my life changed unexpectedly. Instantly. And without warning. Some 36years later I still feel like that 13 year old girl when I first wake up. It happens every May 18. Some years worse than others. Some years better than others. But now I understand that pain. I know that pain has given me the wings to be who I am. That pain allowed me to grow in ways I would never have dreamed possible before. That pain taught me forgiveness, compassion, empathy and love. And that pain comes every year to remind me.

May 18 is always a sad day for me but also a day for me to recollect from whence I have come. To be grateful for the time I had with my mother. To be grateful for all her life and death has taught me. And continues to teach me.

May 18 a day of reverence for me. Rest in peace mama. I will always love you. And thank you for teaching me “I wasn’t built to break."