Well, today I woke up exhausted. I dreamt last night that the cancer had come back. In the early, early morning with the older kids cuddled into our bed one either side of me, I sleepily and accidentally spoke of my dream. And so began the conversation which, along with the dream, continues to haunt me all morning. My son asked me if last year I had been afraid I was going to die. I replied that I supposed I had been a bit. Major understatement there. I said that I'd been lucky that all the treatment I'd had worked. Yes, he said, but if it comes back again you won't be lucky again. I was amazed at how much he knew - although we've never kept stuff a secret we thought we'd been effectively opaque about the future. And amazed at how courageous he is to put into words such the cataclysmic fear we all feel. My daughter, 18 months younger, just wound her warm arm around me and said that she would keep me safe from the cancer. And you know what? I almost felt she could if I could just suspend time and stay in that moment.
And then we got up, had breakfast and went to school!! Watching the kids disappear through the classroom doors my heart felt heavy for what a burden my small children, only 4 and 5, carry inside themselves as their day unfolds. And today my heart feels heavy for myself too.
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