On Saturday night, after a long journey with breast cancer, my brother’s wife Louise passed away at the age of 51. She had been diagnosed as Stage IV around four or five years ago but in the last month, the cancer had moved to her brain and her lungs. Tony and I spent a weekend together when I was home last month and he knew that this year was probably her last, but when the end came, it came fast. She was hospitalized in the middle of the week, but did not pull through as they had expected. All her family and friends had a chance to visit and say goodbye and Tony felt that, for something he’d been thinking about for quite some time, the actual experience was everything he’d hoped for. It feels a little disrespectful to write that, but I can totally understand his position. He didn’t want her to linger in acute pain, he didn’t want their son, George who is 12 to see his Mum waste away in a hospice for months on end, he wanted everyone who loved her to be able to say goodbye and he wanted the support of those close to him and George in the following days. In a situation that he would not have wanted for the world, he experienced some semblance of peace. I have been keeping an eye on him since and he seems to be doing OK so far. The outpouring of love and support that he has felt from family, friends, the oncologist, nurses, work has really helped buoy his spirits. I am sure he’ll go through a roller coaster of emotions for quite some time.
So how has this affected me? Well her journey is certainly not my journey and I have no fear that her destiny is mine. I am incredibly touched by her courage and continue to be in awe of the bravery shown by people who face such struggles in their lives. When I spoke to Louise in the last month she said that she was not wallowing in self-pity as when she looked around her, there were always people worse off and that if someone had to go through this, why not her? My friend Liz who died of breast cancer 3+ years ago was the same way, full of dignity to the very end.
And my overwhelming emotion is that I am so incredibly grateful just to be alive. This week as I have woken up in the morning, I have been so aware of my breath, of feeling my lungs rise and fall and the beating of my heart in my chest. I have been so conscious of my body, of the fact that it is working and that I get to live in it, to experience the world through it. With my health journey last year, the trip to Poland and now this, I am being given so many opportunities to fully appreciate what I do have as opposed to wallowing in what I don’t have. Yes, I have had some moments when my attitude of gratitude has taken a hike, but in general I am able to add perspective. So what if the cats are peeing on the basement floor? So what if work is stressful? So what if our renovations are going to be twice what I thought? How bleeping lucky am I to be here?
Life is a gift – unwrap it.
Sorry to hear about your sister in law, love and healing thoughts to your brother and nephew. Thank you for sharing your wonderful words of wisdom- I love your last line- I agree “Life is a Gift- Unwrap It”
My condolences to your borther, nephew and of course to you as you have had to say goodbye to your sister (in law)Louise. Indeed, how a person leaves this earthly world does matter to them and to we who are ‘left behind’ for our little while. I appreciate the awareness of gratitude for still being here-the breath of life still with us. I also appreciate having seen someone close face the pain of life-threatening illness, and the incredible dignity these friends have shown us in the face of this difficult journey. Peace and blessings, Amanda, Love, Ruth
What a lovely and poignant post. So sorry to hear about Louise. Sending love and light to all.
So sorry to hear about your family’s loss, Amanda.