I was diagnosed Stage II Invasive Ductal Carcinoma and had a double mastectomy with chemotherapy. Although my mother lost her battle against cancer, I am sending a message that I will not accept the same fate as hers. Cancer may win the daily battles within my mind, and may have taken my breasts from me (A minor causality of war as I truly don't miss them), but it will not be successful deterring me from pursuing my dreams. My mothers soul lives within me now. "Our" fight continues onward.
Life is beautiful.
The profound essence of such a poetic phrase escaped my vernacular during my diagnosis. I’d whisper these words through pursed lips in a feeble attempt of accepting them as truth.
My voyage this past year had unwillingly thrust me into the eye of the storm.
How resilient the fragile human soul can be.
I realized that my battle with breast cancer was merely the precipice of what would become a journey of self-realization. How often we forget, that in the midst of darkness our battle weary minds reach out for fleeting moments of hope. Courageously willing our bodies through healing.
However dark these days had been for me, I often reflect on the mirrored complexities my mother had experienced with her own demise to breast cancer.
Through my diagnosis, the view extended past my own scars setting it’s gaze upon those of my mother. The reflection of my fatigued expression casting back with a faint glimmer.
Her eyes, in my eyes.
I’d often tell my wife that I could sense my mother’s strength lifting me upon gilded wings when I needed it most.
I’d witness the beauty of a sunset and feel its warmth caress me with a tender hand. The tender hand of a mother guiding her broken daughter back to wholeness.
Those moments basking in the warm embrace of the sun no longer escape me as I lovingly calling out from my soul,
“I feel your spirit mom. Thank you for guiding me with your infinite grace. I love you.”
Life is beautiful, indeed.
Can you relate? Share your experience in the comments below.
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