Celebrate Anyways

My birthday was last week. I was in California as the day approached, and Kate asked me how I'd like to celebrate. One would think this is an easy question, but it stopped me short. I started crying. I realized how deeply I am grieving the many days these last two years I lost to cancer treatments - mine and Kate's.

I didn't have it in me to want to celebrate the passing of that particular set of days.

And.

As I pondered my reaction to her simple question, I realized that, even though I couldn't quite find it in me to celebrate this birthday, I DID want to BE celebrated. 

I wanted my people to tell me they are glad I am still here. I wanted to hear they saw my struggles last year and cried with me. I wanted to hear my continued presence in this life matters to them. (I did know this already, but needed to hear it again.)

Somehow, my people heard my wish.

I was still in the midst of figuring out all the above when my phone dinged. Diane and Gary wondered, "Would I like to join them for a happy hour celebration the day of my birthday, once I got home?" Yes. Yes, I would.

Before I left California, my family there celebrated me with candles and my favorite ice cream and some pie (instead of cake. because, Pi Day!) As they sang the familiar birthday song, tears came to my eyes, triggered by the love I saw reflected in theirs.

I flew home Sunday, and my body was still figuring out time zones when the doorbell rang on Monday. It was Karlie. "Here, I brought you flowers! I don't have free time today, and wanted to help you celebrate."

Happy hour later that evening was filled with warm kindness and delicious food. I came home to find Joe and his family had stopped by with cake while I was out and left it in my fridge. (They came back the next day to help me eat it...)

All day, my phone pinged with messages from people wishing me a Happy Birthday.

A package of chocolates arrived from Jane, one of my oldest friends, with a note telling me that even though I'm not 64 any more, she still needs me and is happy to feed me next time she sees me.

And so I start another year of life with my grief gently eased a bit.

Knowing tomorrows are not guaranteed. 

Knowing I am loved today.

Wedding!

Kate and Edwin met shortly after they started working together some eight, nine years ago. There was a definite spark, and after a while, they decided to see if the spark could be ignited into a flame.

It could. Oh, yes, it could ignite. But there were irreconcilable differences, and so after a time they broke up.

then the spark. then the differences. repeat.

I called them the reluctant couple.

Several years ago now, they decided it was time to put up or shut up, so gave it a more serious try. They went to counseling to see if their differences could possibly be worked through, and did the work to meet on common ground. 

He moved in three-ish years ago - has provided amazing support as she's grappled with cancer a second time. They've been getting along well. 

One of their points of agreement was that they saw no need to formalize their relationship with a wedding. They showed their commitment to one another in other ways.

Then, in early February, Kate lost her job. She needs to have decent health insurance, and this tipped the balance - they decided to get married (!!!) so she could join his plan. The catch was that the wedding needed to happen soon, before she officially went off payroll.

They wanted to get married at the Santa Barbara courthouse - because it's pretty - and three weeks ago, Kate found an open slot where someone had canceled for last week. Planning went into high gear. 

They had a bit over two weeks to pull it together, and pull it together they did. They found rings. Kate tried on about a thousand dresses; managed to find the right one. Edwin went to one store and found a coordinating shirt. (That's how things work in this world.) They gathered a few family members to celebrate with them, and made reservations for dinner after the ceremony. (Numbers were limited both by courthouse rules and the short notice.)

The ceremony was short and sweet and beautiful. They looked SO happy as they said their vows. 

I cried. Of course, I cried. 

Love Is.

Spring!

The weather has been a bit schizophrenic around here these past few weeks; temps have ranged from the upper teens to the upper sixties - once, all in one day. I was still in winter mode, but then walked outside a couple of days ago, looked up - and then smiled, inside and out.

My favorite couple of weeks of the year are here! It came!

If you look casually, the trees are still bare, resources pulled within to withstand the winter weather. But a closer look shows Someone has taken a smudge stick to the tips of the branches, blurring their crisp edges. The leaves are *just* beginning to unfurl. In the sunlight, I can see a faint halo of green on some of the trees. 

It's Spring! (The calendar will catch up soon. It always does.)

On the heels of the arrival of Spring comes my birthday, and I'm a bit sad about it this year.

Last year, just before I turned 64, I had the Beatles on repeat. I was ready to embrace the moment, ready to send myself Valentines and bring me boxes of chocolate and bottles of wine. As it turns out, I did my best, but cancer kept knocking me down, and I didn't get to have nearly as much fun with it as I'd hoped I would. And now, time has again done the thing time does, and the moment has passed.

*sigh*

When I'm sixty-five just doesn't have the same rhythm.

*sigh*

And.

Here I am. Well enough to pout about missing out on so much fun last year. Well enough to get out and notice the changing of the season. 

Well enough to stand up one more time, brush off my backside, and begin to take some steps without cancer treatments looming on the horizon. (OK, there's one more surgery, but it's a little one and shouldn't set me back much at all.)

Maybe (maybe?) this will be the year for chocolates and wine. Maybe I will have time to celebrate in gratitude for the days past - both those which brought good memories and those which brought me learning experiences. And (no guarantees, of course) maybe I'll get more todays to live. I can hope.

Happy Spring!

And

Last week, the news scared me. We are at war in the Middle East? Didn't we learn anything last time we tried this?

And

Last week we had a taste of spring. The highs were in the upper 50s and lower 60s, the sun peeping through the clouds to say, 'Daylight is returning! Spring will come!'

Recently, I've struggled to get out of bed. I find it depressing when I sleep tolerably well, and wake up with my joints aching, surrounded by a miasma of fatigue - a side effect of the medication I need to take for as long as I can tolerate it. Argh!

And

Recently, I've been religious about sticking with my exercise schedule, which is heavily weighted towards yoga classes. While I start most classes tired and achy, somewhere in the middle of the session magic almost always happens, and by the time it's over, movement has relieved most of the aches, the fatigue has ebbed a bit.

It seems it is my season to work to hold competing truths.

And.
Both are true.

I've spent a good portion of my life using the word 'but' instead of 'and.
It's spring, but the news is scary. I'm achy, but yoga helps.
'But' negates one part or the other of my truth. 
'And' says to me, 'Yup. Suckiness and loveliness are co-existing in your days.'

I'm working to do things differently this round. By working to hold these competing truths, I avoid veering into either deep pessimism or false cheer. Cancer is complex. Life is complex. 

Turns out black and white are mostly only good for line drawings. Depth requires shades of gray.

And it is in the depth of life where I am finding beauty. The beauty of grit and resilience and healing.

The reminder that today is precious. Today is the only day I have.

I am here!