Thanks for the love, as always, and to Pamela for prereading!
-4-
Alice
2020
Jacksonville, Florida
"We shouldn't be long," I tell my mother-in-law in September, a few weeks after my trip to Lighthouse Cove with the girls. I place a diaper bag into her waiting hand while simultaneously reaching for Bree in an attempt to keep her curious chubby fingers away from the budding tulips on the front lawn. They're such a beautiful distraction for anyone, let alone my one year old daughter, so Nana isn't upset at all that Bree has gravitated toward them.
Our car runs idle in the driveway as I hand over the necessities she'll need for her stay this afternoon with Peter's parents. Today, Peter and I will finally meet with a neurologist for his recent migraines. While we don't expect it to be a long appointment, we're also hoping for some answers, or at least a clear direction on where to go from here. At first, we thought it had been just a random migraine, but they have increased in intensity and frequency over the last few weeks. Peter, being Peter and knowing what seems like everyone in the state of Florida, was referred by a colleague to a highly recommended neurologist who specializes in the kind of migraines Peter has been experiencing.
In the meantime, while we waited for the appointment in between Peter's good days and bad days, we tried everything we could with little success. To say we have been waiting for this day to come would be the understatement of the year.
Peter's mother didn't hesitate to watch Bree if it meant us being one step closer to putting this all behind us.
"What time is your appointment?"
"3:15," I answer, looking at my watch to remind myself to stay on track. "That means that, lucky for you, she has already had her nap," I tease, bending down to where Bree is still inspecting the flowers. I place a kiss on the swell of her cheek, loving the way her scent infiltrates every cell in my body with just a simple touch.
"Perfect! That means more time in the pool," Nana coos, swooping down to grab her granddaughter. She places her on her hip and turns to look at me. She motions towards the parked car with a slight jut of her chin. "How is he today? He sounded okay earlier on the phone when I spoke to him."
I shrug my shoulders and let out a heavy sigh. "He was fine. Just tired, I guess. He fell asleep on our way here."
"I'll leave him be then. Text me when you're there and settled?"
I give his mother a nod, going over a few last minute details for Bree before leaving for Peter's appointment. Bree is young enough to still be able to come with us to appointments without being a huge distraction, but my gut told me it was best to go without her today.
And in the end, I was right to follow my instincts, because later that night, when Peter loses his balance and falls onto the living room floor, I know this appointment will be the first of many Bree will not be able to attend.
…
Five words have dictated my life, our lives, for the last ten months.
I'm sorry. You have cancer.
Brain cancer. Inoperable. Treatment available just to buy us time.
We've spent more time in the hospital than at home. We've met with more doctors and clinical trials than I ever thought I would ever see in my entire life. I've seen, and felt, the truth behind the vows I took for my marriage, never once thinking in sickness and in health would apply to me.
To us.
He doesn't deserve this. Peter. No one does — but especially not my husband. My baby's father. An incredible man I've known and loved since I was a teenager. For the last ten months, I watched a man who was once full of pride and independence morph slowly into a shell of the man he once was.
As the tumors grow in his body, and as the medicine works overtime to try to attack what is slowly killing him, I lose my husband. A little more each day.
Pieces of me fade away right along with him, and it's nearly impossible for me to carry on most days, but I'm a mother – and my now two year old daughter doesn't understand the concept of her life slowing down just because her father's life is.
Her innocence has become both a blessing and a curse for all of us. We all lose ourselves in her vibrancy and zest for life, knowing full well a life we all know will soon come to an end. It's bittersweet, taking my breath away most moments of my day, but I soak it in - we all do - for everything it's worth. It has brought smiles to our faces, even when we didn't think we remembered how to do it anymore. Smile.
Sighing to myself at the familiar squeeze of my heart when I think about all the somber things this cancerous life has brought to our family, I close my eyes and try to focus my mind on other things. Something different than chemotherapy or radiation or palliative care. Something that can spark just a little something, a little sign of life, into this hollow heart of mine.
"You're not having second thoughts, are you?" Peter interrupts my train of thought as we sit on our deck overlooking our backyard. His voice is strong today, a little scratchy, but I can hear him perfectly as Bree splashes in the shallow end of the pool with Peter's parents while Peter and I watch it all. It's a good day for him, and we've gotten him comfortable outside under the umbrella so he can partake in a family barbeque. Peter's brother, Garrett, is in front of a plume of smoke from the grill, shouting that the food will be ready shortly.
"I wouldn't consider it a second thought if I never changed my mind in the first place," I remind him with a sad smile as I reach for his hand. He offers back a gentle squeeze in return. "I need to be with you. Not Lighthouse Cove. The girls will understand if I skip it this year."
Peter shakes his head adamantly. "Remember what we said? What we agreed on? Your life isn't going to stop just because mine is," he replies, looking back over the yard at Bree. He smiles as she squeals in delight on her tube. "Your flight leaves tomorrow morning. And I'll find a way to make sure you're on it."
"Peter – "
"Don't fight me on this, Alice. Please." He turns to look at me with a determined grin on his face. It's the same one I've seen since I was fifteen. It's the reassurance I'll always need, while he's here and long after he's gone. "You're going. And I'll be here when you come back. Promise."
Reaching for my camera, I focus my lens on his face and snap it into our forever. "Okay."
. . .
"You're not a bad person for coming here this summer," Rose says one evening in Lighthouse Cove. It's a quiet night, my glass of wine sitting leisurely in my hand as my head rests against the back of the adirondack chair. The sound of the waves lapping against the rocky coast makes me close my eyes as the three of us sit on the balcony outside Rose's room of our annual rental.
"I know," I sigh, not opening my eyes just yet. "Peter knows I needed this time."
It's not about me, this cancer journey. I would never dream of telling Peter just how exhausting it is to be a caregiver at twenty-six – because he is fighting a battle that makes my struggles obsolete. And rightfully so. But like always, he knows things about myself I would never admit out loud, which is why I'm here on the island and not by his side like I had planned on.
"It's time to forgive yourself now," Bella adds quietly, nudging my shoulder with her own.
"It's just…" I pause, my eyes filling with another round of tears. There have been a lot of them this trip, and the girls have been so gracious to allow me this time to let all my guards down. I try so hard not to let Bree see this side of cancer, and sometimes my shoulders are so heavy from carrying our world on top of them. I wipe my eyes and continue, my words shaking with pent-up emotion. "I don't know. Sure, this time away from everything has been amazing. Much needed. But it's still time away from him, and that's all I have right now. Time. And it's being taken from me minute by minute and I'll never be able to get it back."
"We know, Alice. Come here," Rose whispers, pulling me closer to her chair next to mine. "Look ahead."
Through my tears, I do. I look ahead and see the horizon for all its taking.
"It's still yours, even though right now all you see is the sun setting on your chapter. Right now, it's okay to forget, but we'll be here to remind you that your sun will continue to rise on your horizon," Bella says.
Sniffling, I exhale loudly into the sunset. "You know, I was prepared to grieve him once he was gone. But it has already started and I hate myself for grieving him when he's still here," I cry, burying my face into the blanket I had grabbed. I pray for it to swallow me whole so I can turn everything off. Even if only for a minute.
And they let me. They let me loose so all my troubles can be washed away with the rolling tide.
Even though Peter may soon be gone, I know my girls will help me find myself again.
That's what friends are for.
See you Wednesday, Darlins!