Last night as I was scrolling down on Facebook, I discovered that a former colleague of mine had passed away, in breast cancer.
We worked together for a little while and weren’t friends-friends but with social media there are some people you kind of stay in touch with where there life becomes part of yours if even on the fringes so to speak.
We had shared that we both had had breast cancer in the past and that we were both now healthy.
I know “they” call it to be in remission but to me that means that the cancer is just waiting somewhere to attack again. I think of it as you heal and if you get sick again it’s a second, and different, sort of new unbalance, a new opportunity to look deep within to what is causing this unbalance and to heal.
Obviously you choose what to do about your illness, just as I’ve earlier chosen to not do after treatment and now I am going through it all. Whether you look within or not, the most important part is to listen to you and your inner voice, to make the best decision for you.
Thinking about my friend, I feel sad for her and her family with adult children but too young to loose their mom.
And I can’t help wondering if we have been at the same hospital, in the same waiting rooms? Maybe we’ve passed each other in the hallways, not noticing because our attention at that time hasn’t reached outside ourselves?
With this I’m also thrown back into that space of fear and doubt, where the world becomes all quiet and it’s just me there. That space where life is all there is, life without anything particular in it. Just a quiet, still and empty space where my sense of being alive is all there is.
Maybe not even fear and doubt but just this acute sense of aliveness in the middle of complete quietness and stillness.
An aliveness that has nothing to do with doing or with experiences in the world, but only with being, within, inside and with life in a way that I’ve only experienced in these moments.
So T, I know that it’s only your body that has left and that you are somewhere around us all and if we’re “lucky” we’ll notice you. I hope your children will, for them to know that you’re there still, to comfort and to share in their life.