An Open Letter To A Friend |12-12-16|

A friend's husband is going to be meeting with an oncologist soon. Right now their world is resembling the one we lived in a year ago. So many questions. So many unknowns. So scared. I haven't talked to her much, but just told her I'm here. This is what I want to tell her.

Dear Friend,

Right now you are probably trying your hardest to put on your "everything's going to be ok" face. Don't worry, you'll perfect the look. You won't believe it right away. When someone tells you that it's going to be ok, you might even want to scream at them, "How do you know?!. How do any of us know?" They don't. You don't. I don't. But we will hope.

You will be surprised by so many things on this journey. Good and bad. You will learn that surprises really don't surprise you anymore. They catch you off guard, but you'll become used to that. You will be surprised at how many people care. You will think, "I knew I had friends, but this is crazy." People come out of the woodwork to show you how big their hearts are. Everyone around you is cheering you on.

You'll get told how strong you are. Some days you will believe them. Some days you will think, "What version of me are you seeing? I'm anything but strong." But you are strong. You will be strong. You will be a warrior.

You will be strong, but you will find yourself facing some of the scariest thoughts you've ever had. And even if you've wondered about this scary future, it was never real like it is now. You are facing a lot of reality now. And it can be terrifying. It might even paralyze you from time to time. It won't last forever, though.

You'll go to bed some nights crying your eyes out, thinking the worst. Fearing so many things. Hurting for your spouse, because they hurt.

The loneliness is the worst. I don't know how to help that, but I get it. You'll feel so incredibly lonely in those moments where you just want to talk to your husband. You'll want to spill your guts and talk about all of the things that scare you. But you can't. Because you don't want him to know you have those thoughts. I'm so sorry you're going through this.

And then you'll wake up in the morning and feel renewed in your ability to make the best out of the moments. Cherish those moments.

DOCUMENT IT. You don't have to start a blog if you don't want to. You don't have to start a facebook page if you don't want to. But journal. Take pictures. You'll look back on the pictures, or read your words from months before and think, "Damn, we've been through some shit." It feels good see the ups and downs and be reminded that for all of the "downs" there are also "ups", even when it doesn't seem like it at the time.

Friends will surprise you. Some will be stronger than you knew. Some will be weaker than you knew. They will come and go. It will all work out. They may rotate in and out throughout the journey. The right ones for the right moments will be there. Embrace their love, support, and help. Some understand, some don't. But they love you. Forgive the ones that don't get it. They can't help it that they haven't been in these shoes. We don't want them to ever have to find out, either.

Your kids are stronger than you think. They are going to inspire you! I know you're going to shed tears thinking about how you fear their childhood will now be scarred. It isn't. This is making all of you stronger. It is welding you all together stronger than you knew possible.

You will all be able to love each other in a way you never thought you could. You will give each other hugs and fully feel the love and think, "I never want this moment to end." Soak it up. I know it feels good.

Right now, my friend, you are wondering what tomorrow, next month, next year looks like. I don't have those answers. I don't know what our tomorrows look like either. But I do know this, I will love my husband more tomorrow than today, just like you will love yours. We will hold their hands as we go through things that we never dreamt we'd have to do. They will lean on us. We will lean on them.

It is so cliché, but we truly have to take things one day at a time.

You will get to a day where you will look at your husband and you'll both think, "Is this really our life?" The cancer treatments will become your normal and you'll think, "This cannot be our reality." And you'll feel so weird that it feels so normal. It's definitely weird, that's for sure.

I wish you love and happiness, and health. I will carry you in my heart as you go through your own journey, even while we are going through ours. I will be here for you in any capacity that  I can.

In the words of my good friend, Steve Sodergren, Let's Do This.

Oh, and just so you know, you don't always have to put on your "everything's going to be fine" face. I take mine off from time to time. And it feels damn good.

Love,

Robin