In April of 2013 my cousin, Lisa, was diagnosed with brain cancer. She was like a sister to me. We grew up doing so many things together. She and I were 2 of the most independent go getters when it came to getting things done whether that meant play time or work time. There was no sitting around with us. We came up with some wild ideas…. Some better than others:) It was hard to fit in all that we wanted to do in a day. We made lists like no ones business and we definitely lived with the mindset of "pull up those big girl panties” and do it. We prided ourselves in the ability to be perceived as tough and capable. No time for feeling, just get er done! This diagnosis, on the other hand, was a test to life as we knew it.
I saw this as no battle for a person unwilling to share and certainly not one a person could do alone. It was gonna take a team. I chose to be with her as much as I possibly could to help her navigate the tough road of one decision after another. The surgeries, chemo, radiation, MRI's, phone calls and emails with doctors, the emotional and physical roller coaster of a life with brain cancer, facing the fears of leaving her 2 daughters behind, and being by her side in those precious final days.
Lisa passed on in November of 2014. Through the grief and loss of her I have learned more about living than I could have ever imagined. What a gift! Life is precious! I can't tell you how devastated I truly was after watching and listening to her gasp for that last breath of air. All that I had known of us was no longer with me. It completely stopped me in my tracks.
I experienced the crash of the caretaker role and the inability to carry on with life as I knew it. The isolation, loneliness and so much heaviness… The only thing that got me out of bed was my daughters. They were just 8 and 9 at the time and the most powerful influence for me. Although much of the time I was curled up in my bed in the fetal position with my eyes shut and my bedroom door shut, I could hear them. Their ups and downs came with every fleeting moment, as it always does with kids, but the one thing constant was their enthusiasm and passion in each thing they were doing. Actions always revolving around working to get what they wanted. Kids are so good at keeping it simple.
Eventually I resurfaced from the pain and I began to open my heart to the idea that maybe we are all, actually, wired for connection??? Isolating in my room and “taking care of myself” was NOT working. The pride I had always felt in being independent left me feeling so lonely. I can not heal from this pain alone. Connection is key. The idea of leaning on others and sharing my struggle can be a sign of strength. Lisa opened herself up to me in so many ways and allowed me to help her when she was left to do the unthinkable. When we can build supportive relationships and feel safe to show up in a way that is authentic and honest to us, it gives us strength. This requires the willingness to be vulnerable. Life is too short, way too painful to navigate it alone, and way more fun to share and laugh with others. I’ve got a new lens I’m seeing my own life through.
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