Four short little days and I'm go for launch. Hard to believe the big walk is this Friday already. I'm excited, nervous, hopeful, emotional... I don't know when in my life I've ever felt this big a sense of anticipation. Never. Not in the times I've moved across the country, not when I got married, not for anything ever. This is big. In my life, it's huge. Not the task itself so much (although that's daunting enough), but the enormity of what it means and what it can mean.
I'm hoping for some kind of closure and release from some of the great pain I've felt in losing so many loved ones to cancer. I have 32 names on my t-shirt right now. Of those, 11 have lost their lives to breast cancer, 11 to other cancers. Further, of that 32 there are 20 people listed whom I've known personally. Most sadly of all, out of the 32 names only 3 are survivors while 7 are currently fighting the battle and not doing well at all. Pretty frightening odds stacked onto one single person's XL t-shirt (now imagine the 4000 people in Seattle alone who will be wearing similar shirts come Friday). There is room for other names and every time I open an email from someone I worry that I'll see, "Would you please add...?"
We are fragile enough creatures as it is. Please join me mentally, spiritually, and physically in fighting this monster that takes what is already too short (life) and turns it into an unfinished blink.
On the front of my t-shirt I've written one of my favorite quotes, and one that John used often when he was sick and people would ask him how he was doing: Any day above ground is a good day. Here's to better and more plentiful above-ground days for all of us.
"...I have squandered my days with plans of many things. This was not among them. But at this moment, I beg only to live the next few minutes well. For all we ought to have thought, and have not thought; all we ought to have said, and have not said; all we ought to have done, and have not done; I pray thee for forgiveness."
~The 13th Warrior