Things I Will Never Understand

Things I Will Never Understand

She emailed me in 2009, got my information from a friend.  "I understand we have something in common."  We were both caregivers and spouses to husbands recently diagnosed with colon cancer.  We struck up an email discussion about chemo, surgery, drugs, needles, hospitals, oncologists-  all the things I never thought I'd know about but now could discuss in detail.  Brett was sick.  His cancer was stage 3b and we would soon learn it was stage 4 with progression to the liver.  She was lucky.  Her husband had stage 2.  He had surgery and the tumor was removed.  He was put on yearly check ups.  Mine, well, it was a struggle through major surgeries, rounds of chemo, oral drugs, scary days, long nights, medical bills, frightened teenagers, and tears.  She felt sorry for me.  I could tell in her tone.  She was so fortunate.  Her husband was well and mine was dying.  She was kind but the communication dropped off in time.  It's so hard to know what to say. 

She emailed again several years later.  Brett had come through his cancer and genetic testing revealed a name for the monster we will fight the rest of his life.  A course of monitoring was set and cancers would be caught early.  Her husband, however, had a recurrence.  It was on the lungs.  She was scared.  I reassured her that new treatments were available.  We talked about bucket lists.  "Take that trip," I said.  "You'll never regret the memories made," I said.  Again the communication dropped off.  She went on to take that dream family trip.  She went on to fight for her family and her husband.  My life went on and cancer became routine to us.  Brett has his 90 day check ups.  It's clean or they find a small growth and remove it.  They know where to look.  They know what to watch for.  My teenagers are now adults and they learned that life is precious and memories must be made.  Brett was there to walk his daughter down the aisle.  He was there to watch his son graduate and play college baseball.  Boxes were checked and new boxes have been created.  We are living with cancer, truly living. 

Tomorrow I will put my son on a plane and my children will be together to laugh and make memories.  Tomorrow she will comfort her children. Tomorrow I will be with my husband.  Tomorrow she will bury hers. 

I don't believe in coincidence and happenstance.  I believe there is a purpose and a plan in all things.  I believe in reasons.  I believe in a God who rejoices with me and cries with her.  I believe in something bigger than me.

And, I believe there are things in this life that I will never understand. 

Writing Marathon Magic

Recently the Wyoming Writing Project visited Sheridan, Wyoming.  We conducted professional development with K-12 teachers on a Friday morning and then we opened up the afternoon to the community and invited community members to participate in a Writing Marathon.  A marathon is one of those things in life that is difficult to explain and must simply be experienced. It can initially feel uncomfortable and definitely unstructured.  Once a writer has participated, though, they generally cannot wait to engage in another.  It is a time to practice the craft of writing inspired by local surroundings and landmarks.  It is a time to share writing and connect with a community of writers.  It is one of my favorite activities that the WWP engages in during the summer months.  The following is one piece of writing that was born from the recent marathon in Sheridan.

I wonder what the girl at the desk is thinking.  We just invade and begin quietly writing.  She is wanting to ask more but just politely smiles when I explain we're just here to write.  

We take our places and pens begin to move.  Words pour forth breaking the white.  

I take my perch at the top of the stairs and wonder what will escape from my pen.  I rest in the fact that it won't matter.  My group will smile, nod, and say thank you when I share.  There is safety in that.  It's the beauty of the marathon.  

We've already built a writing community.  We've talked about first tattoos, being a parent, teaching, learning, pain, joy.  Life has been shared.  We've bonded and enjoyed some writing therapy.  

I'm always amazed at the ability of the written word to pull us together.  When I have something to share I write it down.  It's lasting.  It's personal.  It's moving and motivating and reassuring.  It's permanent.

As the words spill I discover things hidden in my thoughts.  They are revealed and shared with new friends and explored then stored away to be revisited later.  Every word is a possibility of a new creative project.  Each stroke of my pen is a promise.

The magic of the marathon begins locked in my pen.  Writing friends provide the key and the words burst forth, jumbled as they may be, creating a connection with people and the world around me.

The Wyoming Writing Project will hold community marathons in Thayne, Wyoming, July 15th, and in Laramie, Wyoming, July 22nd.  We will meet at 1:00 p.m. at Thayne Elementary School in Thayne or at the Literacy Research Center and Clinic on the UW campus in Laramie.  They are free and open to writers of all abilities and ages.  Writing of any genre is encouraged.  I can't explain it.  You just have to experience it.  Please join us!