honest.

I'm not going to lie - today I've been fighting strong against the 'sadness current'. My mom went back to Hamilton last night so she could like...you know....do some of her own life stuff -  not for long, she'll be back tomorrow. Today is the first day since Gord went into the hospital that I've just stayed home with Frances, by myself. We both needed it, I think. I've been smushing my face into the crook of her neck as often as she'll let me & enjoying her new desire to try and crawl/climb onto me. Thank God for Frances.

This is what every day should be like. And Gord should be here to enjoy it as well. And I can't help myself from thinking about it. During her morning nap, I could hear the couple downstairs playing with their baby who is about 3 months older than our girl. I hate to say it, but I got jealous.

Cancer is hard enough to deal with - the diagnosis, the treatment, the clinic visits, the feeling crappy, the putting on a brave face, for me, the watching someone I love so very much fight for so long & so hard just to *live*, just so that he can have a simple, happy life is so hard to deal with. What a lot of people don't think about is the simple pleasures this illness steals away from those affected. Today I am *angry* that this ugly thing came into our lives & landed us where we are now. Today I am resentful that the three of us are not hanging out together.

My sister called me in the midst of all of these feelings & the conversation started like every one does:
"Hi! How are you?"
"Fine! How are you?"
Right after I said it, I retracted. "You know, no...I'm not fine. I just automatically answered that I was because that's what I do. I'm sad today. I'm really trying not to be, but I am."

Turned out that just saying that to someone, and talking about it, and having that person listen to me & love me was what I needed. I felt loads better after just admitting that I wasn't 'fine' and having someone tell me it was okay was exactly what I needed. Still feel this heaviness, of course, but I am trying to focus on the big picture.