Eight months ago today was the last day of life as I had known it. The next day I would receive the worst news of my life. And things would be forever changed.
The night my mom was diagnosed with esophageal cancer, I sat on the edge of my bed with waves of the most extreme nausea rolling over my body and soul. "My mom has cancer. This can't be happening. My mom has cancer."
Today my mom is cancer free. I know that this does not mean that tomorrow she will be cancer free. I also know that her health and vitality may never return to what it once was. But, today my mom is cancer free.
I saw Mom for a few minutes this morning before I dropped Conrad off at school to deliver his after-school snack. I spoke with her this afternoon on the phone when she called to see if I bought my house one of the chair covers that she found. I spoke with her again this evening on the phone, just to chat about the days events, what our friends and family are up to, etc. While it was not an exceptional day by most people's standards, to me it was one of the best days ever because my mom was part of it.
When I call my mom and she doesn't answer, her voice mail picks up. Every time that I hear her recorded voice I am so incredibly thankful that I will hear her voice in "real time" again. More than anything, I fear the day that her voice will no longer be part of my daily world. I pray with all that I have that day will not come for a very long time. And, once again, I remind myself that today is a good day.
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