I read an essay not long ago — after all this cancer stuff began — about what to say to people when you find out they have cancer. The essay was funny, with lots of advice about what NOT to say to someone when you find out they have cancer, but I loved the number one answer of what we SHOULD say:
I’m coming over. What can I bring?
I love that. It says, I am with you. It says, You are not alone. It says, Let’s do this together.
My Kahuna and I have had lots of I’m-coming-over-what-can-I-bring. His tango friends — now my friends too — came to the hospital with flowers from their garden, chocolate, fluffy blankets, and a throw rug to cover the cold floor under my feet. I marvel at the generosity flowing our way. We’ve been given money. An experience at an amazing dinner theater-circus. Offers to come man our juicer. Offers to clean, take care of Miss Persnickety Kitty, or drive me places. And every day I get at least one beautiful heartfelt note from someone, an old friend or new.
You have no idea what those notes mean to me.
Lifeline to my heart
Some people share their feelings and responses to hearing about my state of health. Some people share how their lives touch mine and my journey, about changes they are making for themselves. Some people just share whatever is going on for them at the time they write. All the notes are emotionally vulnerable, open, authentic, and from the heart.
I wish we always lived that way
I’ve been too tired, most of the time, to respond with more than a brief thank you and expression of gratitude. But all these beautiful notes make me want to sit with that person for an hour or two over tea, just sharing space, or better yet a glass of wine as we toast our health. The sweet notes reach all the way into my heart. So healing. So buoyant.
If you wrote a note or posted a comment here, thank you. I love you sharing you. I love your heartfelt words. I can feel them. I can feel you. And it means so very much to me.[And if you have not written a note? No worries. I still feel you.]