The book has been in the works forever it seems. I have a story with a beginning, a plot, a twist, but no ending.
I struggle so much to put all of these components into place. I start and it seems so shallow so I build up each area. Well, then it gets too deep.
Where is the middle ground?
Do I actually need a middle ground?
Who is writing this book, and for whom is it being written.
I’m writing it for my kids. It is our story of faith, love, and cancer. It is the raw fear, the deep longing, the lonely wandering through it all.
My kids deserve to have their story told, to be those kids who kicked cancer’s butt right along side their mama. Me, I’m just that mama. Holding down the fort, making supper, and getting to hockey practice on time after chemo.
They say a title come later, and usually my best brain puke blog posts are titled after I’ve written them…but I can’t seem to focus on the book without a title. I get a little ways in and I’m lost again.
I’m writing this book for me…I earned it. Even now when I look back on my CaringBridge blog I can’t even imagine somebody going through what we were living. How can somebody so sick be so out there, so willing, so open, so honest, so real.
I’m not a celebrity, not even a real writer. I’m just a mom who knew she would forget the details. I mom who knew she was up the creek and there was no paddle to be found.
My doctors got me through cancer. My kids got me through the days.
Those boys…I tell ya. They’ve seen more than many adults. They understand more than most. I’m so proud of them. One day, I hope they can truly understand how proud of them I am, and always was. One day…
One day I won’t be here anymore and nobody will know their story like I do. Nobody will be able to talk about 2014 – 2016 with the understanding I have. So I share our story. I share it with you, so you can see what wonderful young men they have always been, from such a young age. The boys were only six and nine when I was diagnosed with aggressive stage three cancer.
When I was six mom was marrying my step dad. When I was nine, mom gave birth to one of my four brothers. For my boys…it was the year Mom got sick. It was also the year mom and dad got divorced.
Wow…I owe it to them to tell our story. To show our deep love to the world. To inspire other parents to love their children more than they love their jobs, their toys, their friends.
We got this one guys…
I love you,