Unforgettable
Today I am grateful for flavored coffee and a walk along the Mississippi River with my husband.
Unforgettable moments and days. We all have them. Some we hold dear in our memory because they are joyous events. The day I got married: the evening and the beautiful flower garden, the realization that I had finally (I was 33) found someone, the family and friends who were there. The day our son was born: that incredible need to push late in labor, the relief of hearing his healthy cry, holding him for the very first time. The day I finished my first marathon: the starting line of 40,000 runners, seeing each mile marker, turning the corner at mile 26 and seeing the finish line.
And then there are the unforgettable moments and days that part of our minds and hearts would prefer to forget. The day my dad died: being called out of a class, hearing my brother say the words, shock, disbelief. The day I heard the words "You have cancer": more shock and disbelief, gripping fear, the realization that scary and uncharted territory lie ahead.
Six years ago I was living that scary and uncharted journey. This date, July 16, was the eve of my first surgery; a lumpectomy and sentinel node biopsy. It was my first-ever surgery, my first time under anesthesia. I was terrified of the unknown, but ready to face it because I had waited for weeks to get to that point. (I got my diagnosis on May 29 and a variety of factors contributed to the intervening weeks of appointments, tests, and waiting.) Surgery would give us vital information about next steps.
That makes July 17, 2008 another unforgettable day for me. More on that tomorrow.
Whether the joyful or anguishing kind, unforgettable days and moments are part of each of our stories. I seek to embrace life fully, so I must somehow embrace the tough times. Gratitude practice helps me do that. It helps me find silver linings, blessings in disguise.
Unforgettable moments and days. We all have them. Some we hold dear in our memory because they are joyous events. The day I got married: the evening and the beautiful flower garden, the realization that I had finally (I was 33) found someone, the family and friends who were there. The day our son was born: that incredible need to push late in labor, the relief of hearing his healthy cry, holding him for the very first time. The day I finished my first marathon: the starting line of 40,000 runners, seeing each mile marker, turning the corner at mile 26 and seeing the finish line.
And then there are the unforgettable moments and days that part of our minds and hearts would prefer to forget. The day my dad died: being called out of a class, hearing my brother say the words, shock, disbelief. The day I heard the words "You have cancer": more shock and disbelief, gripping fear, the realization that scary and uncharted territory lie ahead.
Six years ago I was living that scary and uncharted journey. This date, July 16, was the eve of my first surgery; a lumpectomy and sentinel node biopsy. It was my first-ever surgery, my first time under anesthesia. I was terrified of the unknown, but ready to face it because I had waited for weeks to get to that point. (I got my diagnosis on May 29 and a variety of factors contributed to the intervening weeks of appointments, tests, and waiting.) Surgery would give us vital information about next steps.
That makes July 17, 2008 another unforgettable day for me. More on that tomorrow.
Whether the joyful or anguishing kind, unforgettable days and moments are part of each of our stories. I seek to embrace life fully, so I must somehow embrace the tough times. Gratitude practice helps me do that. It helps me find silver linings, blessings in disguise.
Comments
Post a Comment