It’s been so long since I wrote here that I had to actually think about what my password is. It took me two tries and slight panic, but good ol’ WordPress let me in.
The calendar says September first, and I can hardly believe it. The last few weeks of summer have gone faster than all the rest, and we sit perched on the cusp of another school year, my children—and me—another year older. The fourth grader has been a challenge lately. Is he nervous for the school year? Is his pre-teen identity getting the better of him? Are the big questions of life too much for him to make sense of?
Yesterday I picked him up from a friend’s house. A friend whose mother is ill. Earlier this summer he asked me, from the backseat of the car as these big questions always present themselves, “Mom, is cancer worse than a heart attack?”
The lump formed in my throat as I drove the familiar streets of our small, close-knit town, and I was able to answer absolutely honestly, “It depends.”
I don’t want my children to know their father’s mortality. Or anyone’s. And yet. They have lived through it. They have visited him in the cardiac ward of a hospital. They have read news stories about others who have died of heart attacks.
Is cancer worse than a heart attack? My father died as the result of an unknown cancer. I know of far too many people enduring the realities of cancer right now. Everywhere we go in our little town, Sweetie meets up or sees people he met in his cardio rehab class. At the parade, at the music fundraiser for our schools. That guy over there, see him, the one with the grey hair and absolutely no rhythm, dancing enthusiastically to the music? Yes, him. He was in rehab. That guy watching the parade, the one with the kids younger than ours? He, too.
We all are a year older. Sweetie’s birthday next week. Our girls both at the end of the month. Mine just passed. We are all embarking on a new school year together, each of us with an uncertain future ahead of us. Each of us here, a part of this family. And me, still here, writing it out, trying to make sense of it all.
This is my first time participating in Jana’s Stream of Consciousness Sunday. What a great way to break back into writing after a very long absence from Momalom. Visit Jana’s Thinking Place and considering taking five minutes today to find out what’s in your own stream of consciousness.Jen Writes, motherhood, three kids, writing