It's been awhile since I posted last and I'm getting close to posting my last words here. This may be because I'm feeling quiet about expressing how I really feel most days or maybe because I simply have nothing left to say. I don't know.
But, the reality is this... the grief is still very close to the surface. This means that it's always there just beneath my smiles and light conversation. It's very much present and I feel it almost all the time. It's not unbearable. It's just present.
Grief presents itself in all kinds of ways. Lately I've been feeling disappointed and that the world lacks fairness. There's no person or deity to blame. I don't believe in divine intervention. I do believe that every doctor Bea saw did everything they could for her, and more. It's just not fair that Bea got cancer to begin with. Or that the cancer she did get was so difficult to treat. Or that the initial treatment with radiation makes you believe that the doctors are wrong and that the cancer can be treated and go away.
Cancer sucker punches over and over again. You think it's over and life is great and then you find out that it's not and there's a lot more work to do to get rid of it. Or you find out that you can't but that there may be some medicine that could help but there's no guarantee and that this new medicine may make you or your loved one really sick in new and horrible ways.
But, this isn't about me and what I lost. It's about what Bea will never have. I could go through the list I have in my head but it's way too long and way too painful to do. No more milestones. No more little happy moments. For her. Not for me. She got seriously short changed. It's just not fair.
It's so easy to go to this place. Seeing the sun rise or my pink azaleas blooming or smelling fresh cut grass can set me off into the world of the unfair. Because it's not fair that Bea won't be able to see the sun rise or set or enjoy her favorite pink flowers or run barefoot in the grass. It's really, really, really not fair.