Sunday, December 6, 2009

Clearwater Beach

The sand is soft, fluffy, and white like confectionary sugar. It’s warm enough to welcome bare feet, but cool enough to start the pins in my feet that the chemo causes.

I sit on the sand, wrap my feet in a towel, and look out at the ocean. Its gray color matches my mood, as does its lack of sparkle. I can relate to its attempts to roll up a good wave. I can see the effort, and how they then just fizzle out and give up. The usual powerful roar of the ocean has been reduced to a serene, tired moan.

There are just a few others here, but I wish there were less. I think back to the beach in Nice, where everything was perfect. Where nothing could invade my mind but the beauty around me. Where everything was new and awesome and nothing tied me to my past. Or my present. Where I was completely alone at the most beautiful place on earth. I could have spent days there…weeks even, staring up and down the surreal French shoreline, picking up colorful rocks to add to the collection in my pocket, and letting the waves roll over my legs. Sitting on the literal edge of the world.

The water in Nice also matched my mood that day. Light, vibrant and playful. The waves teased me and the sun shone brightly creating diamond-like sparkles across the sea. Life was so different during my three weeks in Europe. Simple, yet everything a new adventure. No personal history at all, just me and the moment. Certain thoughts never crossed my mind when I was there. The fact that I am sick, the fears I have of the future, the anger at what is being stolen from me, the very few, yet very painful regrets in my life. I wonder which time zone it is that those things could not cross.

I decide to stroll and look for shells. I put my shoes on to ward off the pins. There are lots of tiny fragments to be found, but I want to find a treasure. I start to dig in the soft sand, letting a tired wave rinse the sand away and reveal the buried shells. Immediately my fingers get the pin pokes. I hate chemo. I hate cancer. I allow myself to shed a few tears for what cancer has taken from me today as I walk away. Tomorrow I go back to trying to sparkle.

I give in today and realize that I need this type of day too. I spend the majority of my time cultivating a good attitude, looking at things positively, appreciating every moment, laughing and having fun at every occasion, but I am also grieving, and should allow myself some time to do that. I want to stay positive but cannot deny the fact that I am angry, feel cheated, and am sad. My heart breaks for those who love me. It’s a blessing and a curse, foresight. I’ve been given the gift of realizing how precious each moment is, how love is so much more important than anything, and how dreams will only come true if you make them. I’ve also been given the burden of mourning my own death.



  1. She is a quick study. Grief is not an abyss we fall into with no hope for escape...child, allowing yourself to consciously to feel your emotions for short periods frees up the energy otherwise required to carry it. I love you and am grateful for every Moment I have you.

  2. I love you very much my beautiful stepdaughter

  3. I love you my beautiful stepdaughter



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