June 1, 2017: Wait and Live and Hope

We confirmed that Columbia received all the information they requested on June 1, 2017 with only a couple of panic attacks over missing slides and lost MRI CDs thrown in to keep the day interesting.

Matt worked late. He knew he’d be out of the office for a few hours the next day and he had a lot of work to finish before the weekend. He and his father were within weeks of closing the deal they’d started months earlier to sell the family business. I took G to the pediatrician (because, apparently, in this story there’s always a doctor) and made dinner based on a recipe I found in the “Cancer Fighting Kitchen” cookbook.

A year before that, Matt and I barely texted during the work day. He stayed late at the office and I took H to get fitted for a tux for his aunt’s wedding.

A year before that, Matt learned the term floordrobe and used it daily to explain why he kept piles of clothes on the floor beside bed.

Three years of June 1sts that would have been lost if they hadn’t been captured via texts and pictures. All I see when I look back on these seemingly insignificant days is how much changed from one year to the next. The year Matt learned floordrobe, 2015, I worried that we’d get bored now that we had our forever home, with our two kids, in the community we loved. We had the exact life we wanted (minus the mess on the floor). The future was brilliant, and maybe, slightly, possibly, a little boring. But, we could do nothing but wait and live and hope for some excitement along the way.

The year we barely texted, 2016 (our pre-hope year?), we walked on eggshells around each other with no idea of the nightmare in store for us in the coming days. We had a life I couldn’t recognize. The future was bleak, and profoundly terrifying and uncertain. We could do nothing but wait and live and hope that tomorrow would be better.

In 2017, our year of hope, we’d lived our perfect life and we’d lived our nightmare. We had a life I just wanted to live without thinking of tomorrow. The future was…I don’t know. Hope kept me from believing the future was bleak. But I no longer believed the future would be boring. I stopped trying to predict our future, stopped worrying about what tomorrow would look like. On June 1, 2017, we could do nothing but wait and live and hope that living in the present was enough.

In post hope, 2018, my “we” is G and H and me. We have a life we never imagined and never wanted, one in which happy moments are tinged with sadness and sad moments are lined with happy memories. The future is often hard to visualize, but hopefully not bleak, and almost definitely not boring. As it turns out, we can do nothing but wait and live and hope.

Image (1).jpg

A snapshot of three years worth of June 1s.

 

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