The Day I Told Them the Truth

Dear Cowboys,

I feel like although I desperately want to forget it ever happened, I need to commemorate in a small way the Day I Told You The Truth.  One minute, we were a regular family of five playing a board game.  The next minute, we were a group of broken-hearted people.  The game lay forgotten for hours, until I pulled myself together enough to clean it up.  I don't think we'll be pulling it out to play for quite a while.

There is really  no good way to break terrible  news to the people you love the most.  I struggled for days with what to say to you, and all I could really think was, "This is so unfair.  This is so unfair."  Every interaction with you became all the more precious, because I knew that you were walking around in a bubble, of sorts.  A bubble where your little world was intact and safe...a bubble that I was going to burst.

And burst it I did!  I'm so sorry, heart boys.  I'm so very sorry that we live in a world that is not fair.  I'm so sorry that after all this time and effort, I haven't been able to beat this thing.  I'm sorry that I can't stay with you.  I'm sorry that I couldn't protect you.

I will never forget your blank looks.  I was telling you the awful truth, but doing my best to avoid using scary words.  I don't know if you really did not understand, or if you just didn't want to know.  Whatever it was, I knew I had to be straightforward.  So I started saying things like "not much longer," "dying," and "not going to get well."  It felt like plunging into a freezing cold body of water.  I couldn't seem to get enough air, and there was no way to go back and undo the huge jump I had taken.

Oh, loves.  Your sweet faces were almost too much.  I wanted to reach out and touch you...hug you...comfort you, but there was no room for that.  The closer I moved to you, the farther you moved away from me.  It was almost as if my physical presence was too much for you  One of you moved to Daddy's lap.  One of you continued to stare at me, as if you didn't even know me.  One of you got up and simply walked out of the house.  I expected different reactions from each of you, as God made you so wonderfully different.  I was not prepared for such dramatic responses.

In a weird way, I was touched.  Your strong reactions definitely showed me that you love me.  The news I was delivering was not easy, and you demonstrated that you were hurting.  I a m crazy-thankful for the intense feelings you have for your mama, because they mean that I matter.  The Monster has had a way of making me feel inferior in the worst ways, but you three never fail to bring out my best.

I guess that's the key.  There is no doubt that I was created for this.  There are lots of other things I do, people I know, places I go, identities I have in this life.  But all of them pale in comparison to being your mom.  There is nothing else I want to do.  Being your mom makes me a better person.

We will make it through this, my sons.  I hate--HATE!!!--that you are suffering because of me.  Because of my sickness.  Not a single days goes by that I don't pray for physical healing so you can have the mom you deserve to have.  Not one night do I fall asleep before I've begged God to guard your hearts and pave your ways.  Not one.

As hard as it is to understand (I don't fully understand it myself), I want you to KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt that God is good.  I do not believe that God caused my cancer, but he did allow it.  He is still good, and He loves you even more than I do.  Cling to that truth with all that you have, babies.  I am.

And let's hold on to one another.  Whatever time I have left to be with you, I want to be meaningful time.  I want to soak up every delicious minute of laughing with (and at) you.  I want to create beautiful memories for you, even if we have to hurry up and squeeze all of those memories into a short time period.  Let's do it.  Let's live big and love bigger.  I already love you all so much. 

With my whole heart,

Mom