In a short story I wrote, I called cancer - a poison that took members of my family till their bodies finally weakened and collapsed. I remember my grandma Julia passing away - the way her body withered away, growing weaker and weaker. I was only four years old when God lifted her up to Heaven, but the images are still vivid in my mind. I hated that word, didn't dare to whisper it. I knew what that word meant: death. That's what I associated cancer with, after seeing it, grab and weaken - merciless. We never forget our first experiences; they are forever branded on our memory. We can change our beliefs though.
In 2001, Mama was ill. My senior year in high school. I was busy, as my life as always been busy. I was trying to get into college, trying to find scholarships, and trying my best to be there for her. Hold her hand as her body felt cold and warm with fever. The doctors kept saying that word over and over. "We think she has cancer, maybe leukemia." There it was that deadly word and there it came: determination and refusal to believe it. NO! She does not have cancer. Stop lying you stupid doctors. You don't know my mama; she's a fighter. The pain and distress I experienced during that Fall season. The leaves rustled and changed colors as Mama stayed in the hospital, not growing stronger, enduring more and more tests that only made her feel sicker. The last test would tell us the answer we dreaded. "One more test and we'll know for sure." The oncologist said in his thick accent. I squeezed her hand, standing there - waiting and praying. Praying till my head ached and my ears yearned to hear. The results came back: NO CANCER. Relief washed over me as I thanked God. A warm refreshing shower of relief.
Cancer visited my family again. 2003. My bro. The sibling who I am closest to. He is the oldest and I am the youngest. We have a strong bond. I stood there in the waiting room, shaking with coldness and letting the tears stream down my cheeks. Everyone was crying; I was slipping into shock with the warm tears moving and no other part of my body moving. Just standing there, hearing the doctor's words echo. The chemo treatments began; Mama grew angry @ God, screaming "how could you let this happen to mijo?" I held myself together, praying and reaching for God. He was there, comforting us. Although we did not always "feel" God there, I knew He was there, presenting to us a trial in life. As life is full of trials and tribulations. Cancer breathed another word into my mind: LIFE. Hold onto LIFE. Don't weaken; Don't stop living. Determination. PRAY. Prayer and Patience as I repeat to myself over and over, convincing myself to find the comfort in prayer. After the trial of Cancer's tug on my bro, he entered remission after about a year and half. Wanting to preach @ church, dedicating his life to our Lord Jesus Christ. There are miracles, we believed.
I saw cancer again today, this evening. I should have been more prepared. I knew my favorite uncle had been having cancer treatments; I should've remembered he had lost all his hair. I was not prepared when he opened the front door. Good thing I had my big sunglasses on because I did not want him to see the big heavy tears that filled my eyes. I gave him a hug with an extra squeeze. We talked and visited and he's still the same favorite uncle of mine. Bachelor. Muscular and in shape. I ignored the jaundice coloring of his skin and the absent hair on his eyebrows and head. I swallowed my tears and continued talking to him. He kept asking questions; that's my Uncle Angel - forever full of questions. He told me how proud he was of me, reminding me that I'm the role model for his fifteen year old daughter. He left to go run errands and I stayed inside his house, straightening up -adding a Woman's Touch as my mama would say. I washed the dishes that cluttered the counter tops. I wiped the table till it shone and swept the floor. I stopped at the refrigerator, recognzing all the healthy foods. Bowls of fruit. Gatorade. Wheat bread. Low fat yogurt. Quite the healthy eater, Uncle Angel has always been. I looked at the stainless steel refrigerator again and saw Grandma Julia's photo smiling back. It hit me again - how cancer had taken her from me, leaving me with little memories of her. I blinked away tears. I remembered her song, how she would sing to me. Dedicated Catholic she was, I remember her singing in church with Grandpa, lifting her hands to praise God. I prayed then. For my Uncle Angel. I prayed and prayed. I wanted to cry, release. I looked at my watch and realized I had seven minutes to get to class...........
The thoughts stayed in my mind. We talked in class, discussed Greek philosophy - one of my favorite topics. I was fine until we started talking about virtue, soul, and death. I got distracted. It was so hard for me to concentrate, smile, or giggle at the professor's jokes. I started to think again about my tio. I promised to stay in touch. I promised myself to pray. I promise to be there for him. I remember miracles; I remember Hope with her gentle touch...
Everyone around me tells me that I'm so strong; I manage to keep a smile, despite the stress in my life. Just yesterday a co-worker patted my hand after I'd talked about some frustrations and told me that she admired how well I was holding up. I thanked her, but inside thanked God for granting me the strength to continue. I've had drama lately. Not just the hurricane, but other issues like my worrying for a special friend, interior emotions. When I don't blog for a few days, that's why. I do not like to focus on the negative things in life. I don't even like to mention them in real life.
Life's too short. I've realized though that Life's not a rose garden. Mama taught me that. There are the good and bad things to record. I wanted to talk to someone tonight. Distract my mind. Release my thoughts. Cry some. Just talk. I pressed send to nearly every contact in my contact list on my cellie and no answer. I have trouble admiting this, but there are times that I actually NEED to talk to someone. Actually talk instead of being the patient listening ear. I have my share of talking - don't get me wrong. But I am talking about release - this is what I'm feeling and it doesn't feel good, which I don't normally do. I scrolled down my contacts, repeatedly hitting send. The network was messing up, kept getting silence on the other end. Not exactly what I wanted to hear. Finally, my bro returned my call. He cheered me up a little with his sarcasm; I didn't want to mention I was worried about my tio. I could tell my bro was tired afer a minute or two so I pressed end after bidding a quick good-bye.
Here is somewhere to release, someone may not listen, but someone will read...
There are those times that a laugh escapes my mouth
because my middle name is Joy - I'm supposed to be bright ...
but There are also those times that a tears trickles down my cheek.
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