We are much stronger than we realize. I realized it this week when my Daughter, Kaity, came to watch the Lakers on TV with on Friday. It was a late game by east coast time––10:30PM––but there she was, full of life and happy to be here. The fact that she left home to move into her place has made the time we spend together that much more special. But it's more than the visits. It's her. She is full of life. Independent. Smart. Strong. And beautiful inside and out.
But this isn't about how perfect I think she is––it's about how she's handling her most recent challenge. Two weeks ago, she had a biopsy. As a parent, you never want to hear that. As someone who is a cancer survivor like me, it hurts me to the bone. It hurts in my heart. It hurts in my soul. As I was waiting for my results from my PET scan, I asked God to give me the bad news if there was any to be had. Give me the cancer, if one of us has to have to it. I can take it. I can handle it. Give it to ME.
My news was good––cancer free, now for a year––but I somehow couldn't stop thinking of Kaity. I still can't. I think about her all the time, my only little girl. I think about how proud of her I am. She teaches special education. She tutors. She coaches lacrosse at her former high school. She works on the weekends to make extra money. She keeps herself busy and always has. I wish I had her energy.
As I think about Kaity as I write this, I'm smiling. Wondering what she's doing at this very minute. Wondering if she's planning her Monday, planning her practices or just planning on making dinner. The week ahead will be a tough one for me, as I wait for her to tell me when she goes to the Doctor and get the results from her biopsy. I want to go with her. I want to be there for her. I want to be strong.
As strong as humanly possible.