Day 71

Today I had my appt to get the results of my MRI from earlier this month. Not that I was worried that anything would show up, but I guess subconsciously I must have been because I had a stomachache starting at 4 this morning.

Long story short the MRI came back negative. Boobies are good to go and I am all set until November's mammogram. But as I sat in the examination room waiting for a rep from Roswell's Blood Bank (to explain about donating 3 vials of blood to their bank for future research), I starting thinking about Mary and how she made sure that I let her know my mammogram results last November. And of course tears filled my eyes because I can't text her about today's test results. 

And the weight of it, the anger and frustration and feeling of my own uselessness and ineptitude causes as much pain as her loss. I donated my blood samples, hoping that someone smarter than I am will use them and help figure out how to better battle cancer. 

I also started thinking again of how utterly unfair life can be. Mary didn't do a thing to deserve her illness. She missed her son's last high school concert, and from what my brother and parents said Levi just rocked it. And she wasn't there. Not in a tangible way at least. And she missed seeing him win first place as Drum Major at his last competition Saturday. In what world is it fair that her son at 17 should not have his mother there? They will never dance at his wedding.

I remember her last week alive over at my parents house, asking these questions, and my brother Mark, religious nut that he is saying something along the lines of, "life isn't fair. Who are we to judge God's plan?" I almost punched him in the face. I will question all I want to. Doesn't make my faith any less valid, just different.

This weekend camping, I had a quiet talk with my brother Tim. It was simple and short, he said he missed her everyday and I told him I did too and we both admitted to still crying. And then we moved on to brighter subjects. And when I told Mark Sunday afternoon he said that he doesn't cry because he knows she is with "Our Lord". For the record my God is different than Mark's. And when he suggested I go to counseling I again wanted to smack him in his righteous face. Because I really really resent people dictating what I should do with my life. 

I am allowed to mourn. I believe that there is more than this life but I am still allowed to miss my Mary, and cry and feel sorrow. Because she isn't here. And she never will be again. And I(we) go on and experience life without her. Moments happen where we wish we could talk with her and hear her reply. Because crazy or not I still talk to her, but what I miss is the interaction, the response, the laughter, the hugs. And I always will.