Looking Forward

This time of year, we see a lot of lists.

Best music of the decade––according to Rolling Stone Magazine. Best play of the year. Worst movies. Best this, worst that. C'mon, do we really need anyone to tell us what is best or worst? So, to jump on the bandwagon––or at least in front of it––I decided to leave all the old and past pleasures alone and look ahead to 2010. Here's what I'd like to see, I'm going to see and see how the hell I'm going to get all these things done before the new New Year.

Spend more time with my Wife.

Spend more time with my kids, Adam, Ryan, Travis and Kaity.

Spend more time with Lucky & Eli.

Write more. About stuff I like. In any format. Style. Any subject. Whenever I get the urge.

Inner peace. Really. I'm not kidding. It's gonna happen. Soon.

More time for me.

Be nicer to people I love.

Be nicer to people I work with. At least once.

Smile more.

Laugh.

Cry.

Cry while laughing. (It's the best).

Tell people I appreciate them.

Clarity. On anything. At least once.

Laugh.

Volunteer. More.

Learn something new every day.

Cry.

The smell of cut grass.

Celebrating birthdays. Especially my own.

Have a heart to heart talk with God. At least once.

A clean PET scan, so I'm cancer free.

Cry while laughing. (It's still the best).

Yeah, that should take all year. But it should also take place every day, right? So what's next?

Looking forward to accomplish the list above.

Losing My Voice

The emotions ran so deep, I couldn't talk about finding out my cancer free news.

OK, I'll admit. I cried like a baby. I cried every time I told someone––Teresa, my Dad, my co-workers who could see something happened to me. Ever since being diagnosed with cancer on August 7, 2007, I have had my emotions on the surface more than usual. (Alright, stop it. Just stop it those of you who know that I'm an "expressive" person already. Now you're even more so? Please). Why? Maybe all those years of building my "street face" had blocked out a lifetime of emotions. You can't let people who instinctively or who have learned to recognize fear know you're scared. Or let them see any emotion. That is a sign of weakness. A big neon sign that says, "ass-kickings here."

But tears of joy are a completely different animal. They feel different. They roll out of your eyes differently. They swell up, flood your vision and flow down your cheek, as if it's a soothing stream straight from your soul. I still feel my lids getting heavy, just writing about it. I still can't believe all the things I have had to endure. Every day. Every week. Every time my body got tweaked out of it's normal routine. It's been a hard 2 years+. It's been an emotional time. It's been bonus time, because I consider every day I wake up a GREAT DAY.

Being cancer free now doesn't mean I am free of worry. Or fear. Or all physical side effects and ailments that cancer has left for me forever. It does mean I'm farther away from the big battles. I'm healthier. Happier. I am more loving. More passionate. More emotional, so much so that I can't talk about how happy I am because I just can't verbally express my happiness. It's a good thing I have this blog, so I can share my voice but not my red, swollen eyes.

I hope you can hear my voice through my words.

cancer Free

The results are in. No cancer. Thank God. This is all I can write due to overwhelming emotion of happiness.

And worried the tears will short circuit my computer.