When we were sitting in those doctor’s offices getting harsh and irreparable news, I never told her how scared I was. I never told her how desperately I wanted to demand a second opinion or how fiercely I wanted to leave. I never told her how much fear and anxiety filled my mind and my heart.
I never told her because I knew she felt it too.
I never told her because I knew that while this was her body and her diagnosis, it wasn’t just hers to comprehend and live with. I never told her because while she looked like strength and resilience, I knew deep inside she was probably just as fragile as I was. I never told her because saying it aloud would make it more real and more concrete.
I never told her my fears, my worries or my disbelief.
I never told her my anger, my frustration or my emptiness.
I never told her how hopeless I felt or how overwhelmed I was.
I never told her that I couldn’t lose her or that she couldn’t die.
I never told her because I knew she felt it too.
I never told her that each time she’d go into remission or get the all-clear from her doctors that I was scared to let my guard down and terrified of what might come. I never told her that each time she went in for routine visits or scheduled appointments that I prayed my phone wouldn’t ring with news or unplanned findings. I never told her that when she’d show up unexpectedly it would make me think she was there to deliver devastating changes.
I never told her because deep down, I knew she felt it too.
I never told her my newfound jealousy for those with healthy and cancer-free parents. I never told her how it felt like I was walking around with an unbearable weight, each and every day. I never told her that I wanted to soak up each day while also trying to hide from it too.
I never told her the scary things, the fearful things, or the unpredictable things. I never told her because deep down I knew she felt it too.
Instead, I told her she was strong and brave and incredible. I told her she was loved and supported by so many people who would do anything for her. I told her that we’d pray for a miracle and search for a cure.
And then eventually…
I told her a million “You mean the world to me’s” and a trillion “I love you’s”. I told her how beautiful she was and how every great thing about me was there because of her. I told her how badly I wished things were different and that somehow I’d be ok, just like she wanted. I told her how blessed my life was because of her love and her influence. I told her that she would never be forgotten. I told her she was irreplaceable.
I may have never told her how scared I was but I always told her how much she was loved.
Always.
Still.
Forever.
Loved.
