Letter To My Mother In Law
Adding a cancer journey to the story of one’s life is probably one of the experiences nobody looks forward to. But it happened to me and I’ll never get a chance to forget it. If I remember the chicken pox at 6 like if it was yesterday: You fucking bet I’ll remember cancer. Slowly slowly the fear will wear off and I will move on: life promised me. But life also promised me that I will never forget completely.
I will never say anymore that a person who died from cancer lost of a battle. How could I? Cancer isn’t really a fight. We don’t want to be fighters or champions or whatever. We’re all stuck with shitty treatment that we all seem too comfortable with as the most reliable option. But then it happens to you and you’ll realize, quietly, that chemo, treatment and surgeries cannot bring you the peace you want: that peace is called ‘a cure’. A cure brings granted chances of survival and the word ‘prevention’ doesn’t exist within it. It’s also sold at the pharmacy and oh! so affordable because we all deserve to fucking have it. I dream of seeing the day when there will be a cure.
I’m still extremely lucky to be alive and healthy. But what about the others? It is HER birthday today and I’m mourning her hard.
I couldn’t use my experience of this year to help my mother in law 99% more. She was taken from us for lack of a damn cure. Like the many people who have died of cancer, she deserved way too much to live. She was young and full of energy. She could have been calling me a week ago about plans for her birthday celebration, or asking me if I wanted her *most badass* lettuce salad. I miss her badly at family dinners and I know damn well how much she deserves to be here.
Damn it! I could have helped her 99% more. If only I could have known better earlier on, but I guess 35 years old is early enough to get cancer.
We didn’t even get a chance to compare cancer notes, mine were so small back in April and probably still are, compared to the hell she went through. She gave me what was my favorite summer head cover: We love/d leopard prints. I wore it to her funeral when most of people still didn’t know that I had cancer. I wore it for swimming and I wore it during many walks. The many walks that have inspired these posts. And she gave me her rings, the ones I wear with bittersweet pride.
Today I’ll bring her flowers and sing to her Seasons In The Sun. Only she could have chosen such a beautiful song to say goodbye. Sigh… I wish flowers could help me accept that she is gone.
Missing you everyday. Mazal Tov, lovely lady.