Popcorn.

All you can be is strong, and plaster that smile on your face, and hold back the tears. 

And repeat She will win. She will fight. She has to beat it. 

But at nighttime, the fear comes out. 

I’m so scared of losing her. 

I’m scared of a world without her in it. 

And it’s hard to hold the rest of the pieces of life together when the fear and the sadness and the anger hang over every minute of the day.

There is no logic, no sense in this. There is no reason she should be given cancer on top of cancer on top of cancer. She is one of the strongest, most influential, kindest people I have ever met. There is no sense. 

And to see her weakened by this fight- to see her tired and worn out by the fight with her body that will not end- I don’t know how to stand it. I don’t know how to grin and bear it in front of her. I don’t know how to hold back the tears. 

Her death has become much more real, much more imminent this week. 

I always thought she and I would have years left to get to know each other as adult women. I thought we would go to plays and trade books and garden together. I thought we would meet for lunch or get coffee whenever possible. I saw us, in my mind’s eye, both with grey hair. I thought I had that long with her. Instead I was given 25 years. 

There is no sense.