At 3 am, my phone woke me up. After spending the last three days agonizing and having my beautiful coworkers go out of their ways to work around me, finding a way to set aside a month to be home in August, to say a goodbye... my phone woke me up. My grandmother finally cornered the doctors and got answers. My gramps has got "days to weeks". Days to weeks. What does that sound like to you? Days to weeks. It's lost all meaning to me. All I hear is, "not enough time".
I wanted to be the one to tell my brother out in California. It's the first time I've heard his voice in nearly a year. He was sitting at a restaurant having lunch with his wife and baby. The conversation was cooly rational, as it always is between the two of us. We don't have to break down or get hysterical to know exactly what the other one is feeling and thinking. After everything we've been through together, although it looks so cold to anyone on the outside, there's just no need for that.
I'm one of the luckiest people on earth, is all that I can think after speaking to my family this morning. The family that I have is simply unexplainable. It can't be put into words. There is a strength between all of us that can't be touched by anything, ever. And a love that can stretch down phone lines and across oceans as easily as can be conveyed with touch.
As I sit here listening to the rain fall outside this morning, I can't help but to accept. Accept that this is one of those profound moments in life when everything changes. When life grabs you by the throat and makes you stare it down directly in the eye, teaches you hard. And even though it's hard, you accept it for what it is, because this is the stuff that life is made of. This is what living means. Everything's connected, and in order to possess the profoundly good, you have to accept that someday you will suffer profound loss. And it's worth it. And if I ever say otherwise, you can take my life away from me, because I won't be deserving of it anymore. It's worth it.