Perfect Strangers

I try not to think about cancer until chemo or a doctor appt. And I try not to think about why some people with metastatic breast cancer, any cancer, don’t survive long and others get to. But when someone I know who is battling alongside me dies, I can’t help but think about it, and I can’t help but feel survivor’s guilt. It happens every time. Too many times. I try not to let my mind go places it shouldn’t or I don’t want it to, but it does, especially when someone I care about dies from metastatic cancer.

Yesterday, my mom’s friend died after battling metastatic cancer alongside me. I didn’t even know her. I just knew her as Alice. We always asked my mom about each other, prayed for each other and celebrated good scans (that were usually right around the same time) together. When I visited my mom last, she gave me a gift bag from Alice. Alice had given me, someone she didn’t know either, a beautiful bracelet (pictured). It came with a card that reads: Count Your Blessings. I keep it on a shelf in my closet to keep Alice close in mind and heart, and I read it every morning. The inside reads: As you live and breathe on this earth, remember to take each day you are given as a blessing. Hold those closest to you tightly. Take time to hug your family and friends. And remember, you are not alone. I was not alone with Alice, or Aunt Deb or Aunt Carol or Christel or Nicole.

I feel alone now that Alice is gone, just like I did when Aunt Deb and Aunt Carol and Christel and Nicole died from metastatic cancer. I question why they had to leave and why I am still here. And then I realize that even though I started this blog to keep family and friends up to date on what was going on with me, to keep my circle in the loop, it turned into much more than that. It turned into a place I could sort out my feelings and deal with them. And now, I hope it is a place where I can be an Alice, an Aunt Deb, an Aunt Carol, a Christel, a Nicole to someone else.

One time when I was young, I was fishing with my cousins and my dad, my aunt and uncle, and a little fish I caught didn’t make it. It floated upside down right next to my spot in the boat for an eternity, tormenting me. I stared at its bright yellow belly trying to will it back to life. A bird flew down and grabbed it. I was devastated. My aunt came up to me and whispered, “It’s the circle of life.”

My grandpa loved that song and wanted it played at his funeral. At the end of the service, everyone in the room formed a circle, and the song played overhead. Through tears, I looked around at all my friends and family, all my grandpa’s friends and family, and I remembered that fish and the bird, and I understood a lot about life and death … the circle of life.

So, I think it’s pretty fitting that Alice gave me a bracelet, a perfect circle. We became part of each other’s circles, and, thanks to her, I remember to count my blessings every day now. Today, I count Alice as one of them.

Count Your Blessings.