Photo credit to my Dad, Dan Cooper. He sent me this last night and it made my heart long for home. This last week I’ve been thinking a lot about death…and love.

I was petting one of my dogs. Her name is Nola and she is a boxer. For those of you who aren’t dog people you can skip the next few sentences because you’ll roll your eyes. Nola is sensitive. She knows when someone is sad, sick, or hurting. And she will seek out that person and sit on/lay on that person whether the person wants it or not. So needless to say she is my shadow when I am home. She was lying next to me and I was petting her soft fawn-colored fur. My brain started thinking about her age. She is 4 and boxers can live up to 10 – 12 years but they often go sooner due to health problems like cancer and heart issues. So my brain started doing its spiral thing and the thought came that I could die before she does if my treatments don’t rid my body of my cancer. Just like that I was off to the races.

The thing about death is I’m not necessarily afraid to die. I’m afraid to leave my loved ones behind because they need me. The life mile markers stretch forward in my mind -weddings, grand-babies, moving back to Cache Valley, going to Italy like Jeff and I have always talked about. In the scenarios I see myself there. Dress shopping with Payton and her mom. Ava bending her lips to her brand new baby’s head. Brielle becoming a boss in some capacity because of her extraordinary will. Strolling the streets of Farindola where Jeff’s grandpa was born, looking for familial facial features in villagers. And then I see those same moments without me. I don’t worry for me. I believe once you pass you are in peace and happiness with loved ones that have gone before. I worry for my daughters and how they would be feeling in those moments when they need to talk to me, to touch me, to just be with me when they’ve had a bad day. I think about my Jeff who looks to the world like a tough man, but whose heart is one of the most sensitive and loving that I have ever known. We are soul mates. I don’t say that lightly. We were meant to find each other in this life because we bring out the best in each other. He understands me and I understand him in a way that is as natural as breathing. It’s easy to love him, even with his flaws. I can’t bear to think about him without me.

Everyone says to stay positive, and I think I do a good job most of the time. I just have moments that can turn into hours of fear and dread. I told Jeff about it. Last night he sent me this:

He’s eternally optimistic on my behalf. That’s not to say that I don’t think he has ever worried about the future and the what-ifs, but he is stubbornly in that camp that I am going to live to be an old woman. I love him for it.

The other thing I have been thinking about is love. All the ways that I am loved and all the ways I get to give love. My friend picked up four Italian combo subs from the Pocatello Papa Kelseys and delivered them to me at work Tuesday. That is love. I had a friend send me beautiful orchids in a copper vase and every time I look at them I see love. All of the “thinking of you” and “checking in on you” messages I receive. That is love. A friend making sure my freezer is stocked with Beehive meals. That is love. A friend bringing me flowers at work. That is love. My brother and sister reaching out to me who have each struggled and continue to struggle with their own health asking me how I’m feeling. That is love. Payton doing the dishes and cleaning the bathroom without me asking. That is love. Brielle cleaning her room to surprise me. That is love. Ava taking me to appointments even though she hates blood and needles and gets faint just thinking about them. That is love.

I feel incredibly blessed. God has surrounded me with all of these angels and I have the most tender feelings of gratitude that words cannot express. In the quiet moments when I am not thinking about death but instead hope, I see and feel all of your love. It surrounds me and envelopes me until I feel like I might burst from it. In those moments I tell my body that I love it. That I’m sorry I dwelt so long on what it looked like and what was wrong with it. I send love to my past self who didn’t take care of herself, that discounted herself as less worthy of good things. I forgive myself for the way that I fed my body and mind.

The truth is we are all terminal. We don’t know when our time is up. Jeff said that to me. When I worry that I am going to die he asks if I’m in pain, or not able too breathe. Well no. “You’re alive. Right now. You’re not dying.” His hazel green eyes bring me back to this moment. I am loved. I can give love. This crap that I’m wading through right now? It’s a moment in my life and life is about finding meaning in all things. What is cancer trying to teach me? Self-care. Self-love. Accepting the love of others. Gaining a deeper understanding of the suffering of others. Feeling broken, but still being a worthy human being. Existing as a spiritual being and focusing on that eternal energy that is me, that will continue to be me no matter what happens.