I am writing on the eve of my 39-year old husband’s first chemo treatment. There is an aggressive cancer trying like hell to take him from me, and I am scared. I understand you aren’t God, but I also know that I have loved just this one man since April 8th of 1989 and that you have an incredible staff who have been down this road that is so foreign to us.
We met young, and grew together instead of apart. We know that’s rare.
I cannot imagine our family with a piece missing. Not a parent, not a child, no piece. The thing about becoming a family is that we are never fully separate again, never fully disconnected. There’s that thread that forever weaves us together.
At nearly forty years old, I found myself calling out for my own parents to come to my side. As I type, they are making the four-hour drive, having dropped everything. I didn’t even have to say please.
This morning, my in-laws arrived to pick up our children and take them to their home for the next few days. As my mother-in-law left, she hugged me, the wife of her youngest child, and she said, “Be strong.”
This thread, it’s woven through generations of strong, loving people who want to see my husband make it through this battle alive and healthy again.
He is the tie that binds us. He binds his six siblings, his parents, nieces, nephews, and their children. He has a way of bringing us all together. He makes us laugh. He makes us whole.
So, when you put that needle in his arm tomorrow, please know how very much he is loved, and how very much we need him.