Football in the snow and a spaghetti dinner

A week and a half ago, life was normal, predictable, and routine. Within that time, our lives have been turned upside down, and the things we once put so much importance in, have now been overshadowed with a new reality of time. I have learned that time spent with family, time spent laughing, playing a game, or just visiting, is to be treasured moment by moment.

Tonight I sat with my mom as we enjoyed our spaghetti dinner together. We talked about her wishes, things she still wants to do, and the ways she wants to be remembered. The neurosurgeon stopped by, and wanted to talk as well. He told us about the people he knew who had passed away from the same type of brain cancer my mom has. He told her this cancer gives her a gift, to have time to say, "Goodbye", unlike his 20 year old patient earlier this week, who died tragically in a car accident and did not have that same, "gift." He explained to us, that whether she has a few months or a year, that she should go and live her life the way she chooses, while she still has the remaining brain power to do so. He looked her in the eye and said that she should not worry, that she should fight to the end and have hope. He wanted her to know that although her health will eventually decline, the end would not be painful, and she should not fear it. A week and a half ago, we never even pondered such things, or imagined we should need to.

As we ate our dinner together, and discussed his comments, I thought of Tom making banana milkshakes with the kids, of him playing football in the snow with Kyle, and of his unconditional willingness to fight this cancer battle with us. Tom has given us all his gift of time and presence. I thought of my mom raving about my mediocre spaghetti meal, and that it didn't matter that it wasn't a gourmet meal, but it was a gift of time shared together. Everyday moments with family and friends, playing football, making a milkshake, or sharing a meal; these are the gifts of time the doctor spoke of. The end should not be feared, but the time spent living should be enjoyed.

We will enter the first 6 week battle of cancer armed with radiation, chemotherapy, and hope. We will enter it, knowing time is ours to enjoy, no matter if that time is measured in days, months, or years. Our time spent with my mom, watching the kids play, of visiting and reminiscing, will be our lasting gifts. I hope you too will savor all those little moments with your family, and know that time, is your gift too.