A few weeks ago I found out that my cousin was very sick. We are the same age (which is to say pretty young…ahem), so it was shocking to find out that cancer had been ravaging her body and taking a silent toll. Within a very short time, we went from being ready to help her with her fight to realizing that there wasn’t a fight to be had.

This afternoon I went to say goodbye. I parked my car and took a long, heavy-footed walk through the hospital; the kind that makes you feel like the corridor is shrinking around you and all the people you pass are going about business that has no place being had when someone you love is dying.

Her ICU room was full of friends and family and we took turns stroking her hands and holding cold washcloths to her hot skin. We laughed, we told stories about her 80s hair, we cried and prayed. I looked on while my aunt told her it was okay to go.

I watched her husband take her face in his hands and kiss her forehead. Today is their 9th wedding anniversary and he made sure her wedding rings were in a bag, tucked under her hand; too swollen, now, to wear them.

Although my heart is heavy and my mind is fuzzy, I am coherent enough to realize that I was given a gift tonight. It was a privilege to be there in that room with so much love and be with her before she leaves this earth. You know how everyone always says that life is precious? It is. When you see it at its last, it’s like a big, neon, “LIFE IS PRECIOUS” sign in front of your face.

Because you aren’t likely at someone’s bedside, I am flipping on the neon sign for you. Hug your loved ones, tell your friends you love them, don’t put off anything.

Live.

Last weekend my daughter’s volleyball team played for the league championship. I’m going to be completely honest here and tell you that we were pretty certain they were going to lose. That’s just the kind of parents we are.

Although they had improved a lot during the season, many of them had injuries this year and a lot of them had never played together before. It was quite a ragtag group who had just barely mastered the art of bump, set, spike. Our expectations were so low that my husband actually stayed home (at my request) so our son didn’t have to get up too early.

But, instead of a loss the parents witnessed a win. The championship win, like with a trophy and medals and stuff. Excuse the blurry, enlarged thumbnail photo of my kid, but I had half a team to cut out of this.

I can’t really describe what it was like to watch those girls give it everything they had, despite their reputation. My daughter dove, slid and even bled a little; when all she really had to do was show up, and her teammates did the same.

I don’t frequently learn valuable lessons from teenagers, but I did on Saturday. I can’t tell you how often I feel like I’m trudging along, not making progress, and losing. My weight, the bills, my son’s health and emotional issues, the bills, the bills, the bills, my insomnia, my dirty house, my writing…just everything.

What I realized from that ragtag team is that there is always a chance that I can come out of this on top; that if I dig in and fight hard, everything might turn out in my favor. It’s an uphill battle, but I can’t just give up.

There might just be a trophy waiting for me at the end.

Here’s what I could tell you; that it’s sometimes exhausting to raise a special needs child. It’s also the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done and if you mess with my son, I will go all Mama Bear Advocate on you until you stop. I will also say bad things about you on Facebook.

I could tell you that my cousin is very sick. That she was pretty much fine and then was suddenly diagnosed with THREE DIFFERENT types of cancer and is in critical care. Get your papsmears, ladies. Make a note and schedule it as soon as you possibly can.

I could mention that I can never, ever get the laundry done all in one day like my husband can and that he constantly rubs it in my face. Or, I could talk about how I don’t understand why The Voice is on EVERY night.

Maybe I’ll mention how hard it is to be vegan with Twix bars in the house, that I could buy a new pair of shoes just about every day or that I wish I were a piano virtuoso.

I could say that I think guilt is an incomparable emotional experience and if you don’t have any, then you’re not someone I want as a friend. If you don’t feel guilty about something, then you don’t care enough. Or, I could say that my dog is the best snuggler in the world. For real.

Or I could just show you a picture of my 78 year old mother beating my daughter at arm wrestling.

I’m 41 years old and my mom still scares me.

For the third time in three months, a woman I know has sliced her hand and/or fingers while working in the kitchen. I think this is a sign. You’re welcome, ladies.

First it was my sister with an avocado and a dull knife, then it was a friend with another avocado and another dull knife. She got her tendons involved and ended up with surgery and nice little hospital stay. She’s actually an over-achiever, so this wasn’t a big surprise. Hi, Karen!

Today, my friend Melisa was cutting an apple with a very sharp, very big knife, when she cut off the tip of her finger. After talking to her I decided to revisit this post about when my son did the very same thing. Ironically, Melisa left the first comment on that post, so the finger chopping has come full-circle. Mustafa is pleased.

Even though it was five years ago, my son still remembers his finger-splint, named Tapper, quite well. But I think Melisa may have him beat in the memorable-finger-splint department. Just a hunch.

Bird courtesy of Melisa at Suburban Scrawl