Reality bites....

While I was eating breakfast this morning, I heard a plaintive cry, a wail.

Then another. Longer, more painful.

I knew what it was.

Another cancer warrior had become an angel.

My door was pulled shut by someone in the hall.

Elise, my nurse for today, came in and confirmed what I knew in my heart.

"Where they expecting this?", I asked.

Because of patient confidentiality, she really couldn't say. My guess was no, they weren't.

Death is never fun, never really "expected", I guess, but I so hate it for the families who will live with the sadness of missing the person who is gone, and who will always be reminded of it during what is supposed to be a happy, joyful season.

My mom and I go through our slump in late January-mid February each year.

Her mother, my grandmother, passed away at 94, rather unexpectedly, though she had been in a nursing home for years.

My dad passed away three weeks later, from lung cancer. It was peaceful, it was quick. I think, as my friend Pam has said, he had "decided" it was time. He did not suffer, nor did we, except for losing him.

I remember whispering in his ear that last night..."It's ok, you can go now. We'll be fine."

He slipped away quietly. We cried, but there were no plaintive wails. We were happy that there would be no pain for him.

His graveside service was huge. The man had friends like I don't know what. Everyone loved "Popeye" or as my friends knew him, "Pud".

God bless the cancer angels on this Christmas Eve Eve.

Hold their survivors close to your heart, God, and let them know everything will be ok and help them find the peace and strength they need to move through this difficult time.

Love,
Penny