cancer beat me

I say the words that I know I will always grieve her.. but lately.. really this whole past year I’ve just been mad about all of it.. And fighting like hell to deny it all too.. Been doing fairly well at it.. And had a distorted sense of pride about it ..

But not sure I have the fortitude to keep going like this..

Cuz see I know. I know it’s not fair to my kids to be denying my ache anymore because it starts to impact them. I am far less patient than I should be.. I am ready for them to go to bed before bedtime.. I am always squeezing to just hold it together.

I swore I would never ever be like this.. I dug in.. I dug in so hard for so many nights after she died.. And it helped. It allowed me the space to really be theirs ..

Frankly I have been pretty proud of that… thinking I was so much more advanced than other families who ran.. who weren’t able to confront the depths of their sorrow. .

And then eventually the time between needing to visit my grief to that degree spaced out.. and it was natural. But I still made the time for it. .. for her. The time needed to allow the piece of my truth that is dark and cold was gifting me longer times in between.. So I took that time and but still dealt with the blows when they came..

Then I stopped.

… and that became the challenge. How long can I maintain without diving into it. How long can I clench my teeth and force it back down. Refuse to give my pain of missing her a voice.

sorry buggers.. i know i only am so sad because i love you so much..

But its hard. Because its not the same constant loud brokenness. There is a longer respite between the time the waves of grief break .. longer spans of calm waters. And I have found a way to dive below the waves to avoid riding them.

The grief baby has continued to grow .. but I have stopped wanted to parent it. (to make sense you gotta read the link)

I thought it was for them. I thought I was being a good mom to my surviving four. Maybe. Maybe there is some truth to that.. But its also been for me. Because I am stubborn. Because I am fucking tired of admitting through my fingers again and again in so many different ways.

I lost. I failed.

But I don’t lose. I don’t fail.

Still the singular truth of every single word I have written is ..

Cancer beat me.

Cancer stole you.

Its ok to have respites. Its ok to have longer spaces in between the pain.

But its not ok to refuse it. Its not ok to “win” by overriding my emotions. And its not brave or strong. Its not healing. Its not giving or selfless. Its the anthesis of that..

And thats really hard to swallow. But its also freeing. Its also time.

they are worth it


are worth it

…to be continued..

…until there is a cure

6 Responses to “cancer beat me”

  1. Every fight needs a step back once in a while to regroup and gain strength. You fought an unfair fight with Jennifer; there was no winning there, but you went for it. And then you gave the world Unravel because of that.
    You haven’t failed now. You honor Jennifer every day in so many ways and you are raising amazing children with her -because she is with you.
    You took a break to regroup and refocus; because even grief needs a “break.” But there is no way you can fail when it comes to loving and honoring your 5 children, because at that, you are the biggest champion.
    I love you.

  2. I’m still here. Still thinking about Jennifer. Still grieving your loss. Still fighting for change. Your daughter changed me, to the core of my being, and I have never met any of you. She has a legacy, but I wish you still had her and I’m not just sorry, I’m active.
    Sending love from Colorado.

  3. Libby you AMAZE me!!!! You are so much stronger than most and give so much to your children. Most people could not face the day to day challenges you face. Take time for you, for your grief then pick yourself back up and continue being the amazing mother you are!!! Jennifer is watching and admiring your strength!

  4. I just can’t believe that she is gone. She should sill be here playing and learning and exploring. I feel sick about how unfair this was to you. And to so many more.

  5. It has been 14 years. 14 years! The memories of him are beginning to get fuzzy. But I can still hear his voice in my head like it was yesterday. Some days the fact that I lost him takes the breath from me like it is unbelievable that it happened, that it is real. It is so new and old at the same time.

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