Boom! Take That, Cancer!

     Today I was thinking about how much this whole cancer thing has permeated my life.  I was thinking I should lighten the mood, write about hummingbirds or frappuccinos (or hummingbirds on frappuccinos) instead of such a heavy subject, but unfortunately, that's just not coming out of me right now.  I mean, I can write about light fluffy subjects and want to do so because all of this heaviness needs some levity, but it's amazing how much of an effect cancer has--how much it takes over every waking thought and seeps back in to the smallest details.  How do I mention my daughter's penchant to break out in random song or her refusal to match socks without meandering in to she had a brain tumor and passed away?  The questions always seem to come, or even if they don't, I then have this ridiculous expectation that they should.  Then the air around me becomes awkward because I went there--to that dark place where most would rather not look.  Heck, I don't blame them, (I do A LOT of mindless binge watching avoidance), but the cancer life has become a part of me whether I like it or not, like a scar, a big, gaping scar.

     Naturally, what can one do with scars but own them?  Emilie owned everything about herself.  She loved being weird and wasn't set on impressing anyone.  When I asked if I could shave her head to eliminate her old man mullet she had going on from radiation, she refused.  It was the only hair she had left, and she was going to keep it.  She even occasionally walked around without a hat because, really, she had more important things to worry about.  Emilie and her brother would spontaneously act out scenarios where they were both spies with the complimentary accents, or they would make up conversations complete with alien dialogue about very interesting parties they attended the night before.  Where these dramatic feats took place really didn't matter and neither did the size of the audience.  As I alluded to in my intro to this blog page, I once asked her if I could be cool like her, and she replied no, "Because you have to be yourself."  Unfortunately my "self" which has always been unquestionably interlinked with my children, my hearts, my soul, has a bit of immovable schrapnel.

     For the sake of my husband and my son, I am slowly making room around that scar for happy moments, and as far as the scar itself, Emilie would probably want to dye it purple or add sequins to it, so that actually makes me smile a little.  And yes, it will still be a little awkward meeting new people because the subject will come up (It always comes up).  I will also keep writing about all of the muck of cancer because her story will hopefully move people to do more.  So much work is ahead of us because we are entrenched in this fight to strip the power from a disease that takes our loved ones all too soon.  The aftermath of Emilie's illness and passing becomes my badge of courage, proof that I am fighting this war and that I have embraced this new role.  Here is where I imagine Emilie exclaiming a mic dropping, neck rolling, attitudinal "Boom!" (Take that, Cancer!).