I write about my life and life itself seen through my eyes for who can write through the experiences of others if not their own?

Monday, May 09, 2011

Time Heals or so we hope.

I don’t know of any other way to get over grief, pain, fear, loss, other than time.

I can listen to a friend going through any of the above, and I know, no matter what I say, no matter what he or she feels then, that only time will be able to ease the hurting.

Time heals. If we could put time in a bottle…

Ten years ago, 4 days away from Mother’s Day and the same number of days from my daughter’s 8th birthday, I was diagnosed.

It was 3 weeks before I celebrated another decade. I had already written it on everyone’s calendar at work. I had a list of dinners, drinks, lunches, scheduled by my friends.  Then, there I was, sitting in the doctor’s office learning my life had changed.

The news felt like a slap. It burnt my face and brought tears to my eyes.  I don’t remember the date,  but I remember what I wore. I wore a skirt, one I would never wear again.

Sitting at the edge of the examining table I stared at a crack in the ceiling. My vision blurred by tears. The voice of the doctor kept getting farther in the background.  In those eternal moments I bargained with God. I bargained for more years to raise my children. Enough time, just enough time to get my daughter, my youngest through high school; enough time to get my son started in college; old enough to be without their mother.

In the exam room of the first specialist, standing in a corner dressed in a gown, I waited for the bone marrow exam that would determine how badly it had spread. In those few moments before the doctor came back with his instruments, I laced my hands in front of my chest and prayed. "Ten years, God.  Give me ten years".

It has been ten years.

Time has helped. Like it helps with other monumental losses. It has not erased the fear, but it has made it manageable.

I have received my wish.