I am a firm believer in the ideology that there is no such thing as a bad day, only bad moments in that day. I have faith that all obstacles placed in front of us, are to strengthen us. I am human. Often my faith falters. I pray for guidance regularly. Prayer, to me, is not a structured process. It is a fly by the seat of my pants, any and every where kind of thing. My faith in the heart of life is what gets me through my hardships.
This would be the first time my faith was knocked out of me. I fell away. I couldn’t process anything. There were no prayers in my mind or heart. My ideologies of goodness slide through my fingers like sand. The universe just broke my heart. Every day of that month was a dreary abyss. My emotions began to systematically shut down. I was running on functional basics.
Having learned that (at best) my sister had six months to live was something I couldn’t wrap my head around. Her oncologist told us not to focus on what the specialist had said. My sister had to keep her head in the game.
There was a hospital stay to get tests fast tracked. During her stay, we talked to the radiologists. Radiation would start soon. After all the doctors left for the day, she cried. She would lose her hair. She was going to look like she actually had cancer. Up to this point, looking at her, you would never know the battle her body was fighting. Now the world would see what was on the inside.
What kind of world was this?? What the hell?? She was only 28. I was so mad. That was ok. She didn’t want me to cry in front of her. So that day, I was pissed. I was raging. What life lesson was there??? What great strength was there to be had??? This was garbage.
We talked that whole afternoon and night. We raged together. The nurses steered clear of her room. I couldn’t let go of that hot fury that was engulfing me. I was consumed with bitterness. Talking was making it worse. My mind could find no good of any of this.
I had told her, that at that moment, I felt like everything I ever believed in, had faith in, was garbage. It was useless. If it can’t help me at my lowest point, what good is any of it?
“I don’t get it Krys, what life lesson is there here?”
“Love me. Me loving you. Love.”
I went home mad at her. I did. Love. What kind of absurd answer was that? Love. I went to bed mad. Not at her, but the situation. I woke up mad. I drove to the hospital mad. I walked flights of stairs mad. Yep, walked to her room mad.
I opened the door. She was laying in her bed, sound asleep. Quiet. Peaceful.
Love. She was right. It was all about love.
I had to get my head out of my ass. Because in March of 2016, my sister was still here. She was sleeping in that bed.
For me, it wasn’t over. Not yet. She was here. It just took me being a lot of mad and hurt to realize the love that was laying in the bed waiting for me to get there. That was my miracle.