March 24, 2011: I heard somewhere in the past month that once you've had tragedy strike in your own life, you either turn completely inward - or you turn to look at others around you. Suddenly, you learn about ten people who have gone through something similar, or you learn about ten people who have a much harder battle to fight that makes your own Goliath look puny. I certainly haven't been at this long enough to tower above my giant, but every day I am amazed at the resiliency of the human spirit. I learn of loved ones who have suffered in silence and never lifted their megaphone to shout to the world of their pain. I am not that strong. I told Mom yesterday that I need to stop and think before I tell my story to the world - I found myself confiding in the waitress at the local Mexican restaurant that the reason I'm wearing the pretty scarf she complimented me on was because I had just gone through cancer surgery on my neck. She looked stunned, like she couldn't believe I had just blurted out that kind of news. I'm not seeking pity or charity - it's that I feel I have to elaborate on that sign around my neck that says, "I've got cancer." So, I'm learning to be a little more discreet. "Life is not a straight line," my friend says tonight. We are zig-zagging all the way through our days.
No baby today. He's content to stay nuzzled inside his mommy's warm, cozy guest room. Funeral arrangements are made for Uncle Ray. Monday. The same day baby will be forced to appear, if he doesn't decide to make his own entrance before then. This means I'm momentarily thinking of cloning myself so I can be in two places at once. But, I know Uncle Ray would understand my choice to be with my daughter and her new baby. It's a hard choice. Just like life and the mountains and valleys we tread every day.
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