This is Kind of Like a Prayer
This is kind of like a prayer and I'm not sure right now where it will lead or to whom it is directed. I suppose first to God but I believe God creates action not necessitated on our pleas but more on what needs to be. So I guess in directing this to God, I'm really asking for some sort of virtue—like patience, or strength, confidence or resilience. Yes, I need these.
But this prayer is also offered to those who have traveled this path before me—to those whose spouse has also been ill, has had cancer, or who has left them in worry. But then each of our paths has also been different, our spouses have been different, the prognosis different, the outcomes different. So fine tuning, the prayer is to those who have loved deeply and who've been afraid, and I'm asking how did you do this?
And of course this prayer is to all of you reading this. It is why I write because somewhere that is not in my computer, not in my diary, not in the room in which I compose, somewhere out there in another space is you, you who also face what life gives us.
Big breath in,
big breath out.
Long and short, I am afraid. I am afraid of this cancer. I am afraid of how it has changed our lives, I am afraid of how it has changed us, and I am afraid of what lies ahead.
But with cancer the equation changes. it is not always stronger, better, happier. With cancer what is found is the love. And that love brings worry, and fear, and sorrow—and also beautiful surprises. Love persists.
So tonight my prayer is for strength enough to love fully. My prayer is that my love lives a full, pain free life.
I write to God, to those before me, and to you looking for reassurance and for your shoulders to lean on.
But this prayer is also offered to those who have traveled this path before me—to those whose spouse has also been ill, has had cancer, or who has left them in worry. But then each of our paths has also been different, our spouses have been different, the prognosis different, the outcomes different. So fine tuning, the prayer is to those who have loved deeply and who've been afraid, and I'm asking how did you do this?
And of course this prayer is to all of you reading this. It is why I write because somewhere that is not in my computer, not in my diary, not in the room in which I compose, somewhere out there in another space is you, you who also face what life gives us.
Big breath in,
big breath out.
Long and short, I am afraid. I am afraid of this cancer. I am afraid of how it has changed our lives, I am afraid of how it has changed us, and I am afraid of what lies ahead.
There I have said it. Life has changed and it will continue to do so.When you fall in love at first, you fall in love in what the other gives to you. Their love holds the promise, the hope of something stronger, better, happier, than just you alone.
There I have said it, it is not what I have wanted.
Yet love, there is the catch.
But with cancer the equation changes. it is not always stronger, better, happier. With cancer what is found is the love. And that love brings worry, and fear, and sorrow—and also beautiful surprises. Love persists.
So tonight my prayer is for strength enough to love fully. My prayer is that my love lives a full, pain free life.
I write to God, to those before me, and to you looking for reassurance and for your shoulders to lean on.
Comments
Post a Comment