Mele Kalikimaka

Normally, I post on Christmas Eve after all the preparations for the arrival of our Saviour (and Santa) have been completed and the house has quieted down and I can contemplate the blessings that have been bestowed upon me in the year just passed. However, this year I plan to be spending Christmas Eve enjoying a pina colada under a swaying palm tree by a gorgeous ocean surrounded by most of my equally festively-inclined family. Yep - we're going to Hawaii for Christmas. Don't get me wrong - I still plan on contemplating all those blessings. I'm just going to be doing it in 80 degree temperatures and with tropical drinks!

To say that this has been a difficult year is quite the understatement. I am torn between wanting 2011 to end so badly and yet fearing that 2012 will bring worse. The loss of Bonnie, of Ken, of Gubby, of Uncle Eddy and the realization that my cancer continues to progress took a bit of a toll on my ability to stay positive, to feel optimistic, to want to keep fighting. But then I have a moment when I sit and giggle with Taryn ("Kill, Bang, Marry!"); when Addison dances to "Moves Like Jagger;" when I help Ian choose a gift for his girlfriend; when Warren shouts at the TV during a football game (which he does for my sake - we all know he's not a sports nut); when Emily asks my advice on a work issue; when Bruce makes an unfunny joke that just cracks him up; when Lisa and the boys decide to come to Hawaii with us; when life just keeps happening and happening and happening, well, then really...what's not to feel good about?

We are going to Hawaii both as a chance to celebrate the season and also as a tribute to those that left us this year. My mother, Ken, and Gubby all loved to travel and it seemed fitting to finally take the trip we (Lisa and I) have been talking about for years rather than postponing it one more time. Because when you get right down to it, it's today that matters, it's family that matters, it's faith that matters. Hawaii, for us, is the embodiment of all of that this year.

So Christmas Eve may be happening in a different place for us this year but the reasons we celebrate it won't be different. We will be grateful for the birth of God's only Son. We will eagerly anticipate Christmas morning and the opening of presents. We will enjoy a hearty meal together (pigs and pineapple - yum!). We will share stories and memories and hugs and laughter and tears and joy with those that matter most to us. We will remember those we will always love and hold close in our hearts. And you damn well better believe we will do all of this with our hands firmly around our Bikini Martinis!!

Merry Christmas - Mele Kalikimaka - Blessings and Love to All.

Let's Live For Today

I have done a good job (I think) of staying focused on the present, on enjoying each day as it comes, on not letting the awful truth of my prognosis interfere with my ability to appreciate all I am blessed with, on reminding myself of all that I have been privileged to experience since my diagnosis 17 years ago, on still making plans - even though I know they may change. Now if I can only get everyone else to do the same.

On Thanksgiving, my brother Bruce had an awful breakdown, sobbing uncontrollably in the kitchen while I held him and tried to comfort him. "You have no idea," he kept saying, "how much you mean to me." I could hear the pleading in his voice, the unsaid "Don't leave me," the anguish felt by a man who has already lost one sister, the one NOT his favorite. "I think about it all the time," he cries and I know the "it" is my cancer, my unforgiving and unstoppable cancer that leads to only one destination, one my brother desperately wishes wasn't happening. I try to remind him that there is no telling what kind of time I have left - I have already beaten so many odds that anything may be possible. I urge him to appreciate the time that IS left so that we don't waste time grieving before it is actually time to grieve. I tell him that, at least most of the time, I am happy and at peace and that I'd like him to be too. I hug him tightly and tell him I love him and I ask him to please, please not be sad. At least not right now.

Warren, poor Warren, with whom I just cannot discuss my disease because he's my sanctuary from all that reality, he is lost when it comes to dealing with me because my mood changes constantly depending on my emotions at the moment. As we were putting out our Christmas dishes, he commented that we should increase our service for 8 to a service for 12 so that we can leave each of the kids a set. My reaction - he's already divvying up my stuff and I'm not even dead yet (yeah, yeah, technically it's "our" stuff but really, as the wife, it's all mine right)? I know that's not what he meant. I also know that in part (subconsciously at least) it is what he meant.

And as the other day Taryn watched me dance around the house to "The Little Drummer Boy" (although truth be told, "dance" is a strong word for the weirdly awkward combination of ballet and modern dance that constituted my movements), tears formed in her eyes and even though we didn't talk about it I know she was thinking of a time when she will never see me dance again.

Oh how I wish I could magically erase the fact that I have cancer from their minds. Because I don't know the right words to say it's OK to live, live, live and joyfully so. I don't know how to convince those I love that living for today doesn't mean ignoring the harsh reality of tomorrow - after all, I am guilty sometimes of shoving that tomorrow in their faces. It just means letting go of what tomorrow means when that reality inevitably intrudes so that we never lose sight of the blessings of today.

My brother was crying - but I still got to hug him. My husband was insensitive - but I love him no less. My daughter was tearful - but still got to see me smile. Awesome gifts all. Please - everyone - live for today.

Blessings and Love to All.