I’ve had so many life lessons lately. All the changes have made me refocus my energy (which has made me WAY more energetic) and open my mind to new possibilities. None of these changes are bad, but they can be slightly uncomfortable during the transition. Kinda like a pair of jeans fresh out of the dryer. If you just move around in them a little bit and they’ll end up fitting perfectly.
One of the major changes has been a serious reorganization to my inner circle of peeps. I’ve added a couple of new key players. One of these new friends has been encouraging me in so many ways. We chat often and she is simply wonderful! Her inspiration and lessons have been invaluable on my new journey – to the point of my actually being excited to wake up in the morning. I can’t tell you how long it’s been since that’s happened.
I’ve also been working with a therapist who is challenging me all over the place. One of the biggest things we’ve been working on is my needing to treat Ben like a “well” child. I’ll be honest here, I’ve not done a very good job at that. I have kept in the back of my mind that Ben will not live long enough to be an adult. Especially after this most recent relapse when the term “chronic illness” entered our vernacular. The way it’s been explained to us is that he’ll be fighting until a cure is found or he dies. I’ve had a hard time getting past that. I don’t have confidence in anyone finding a cure for Neuroblastoma. And I know Ben won’t want to fight like this indefinitely. He’s already admitted to this. I’m trying to change my mindset – to hope for a cure – but it’s been so incredibly difficult. It’s a cold, hard fact that the people who holds all the money and power are not interested in helping these children. Their little bald heads are cute and everyone always says, “Awwwww, how sweet/sad,” but nobody does anything to level the playing field, despite the desperate pleas of their parents. It sucks.
Anyway, focus on what I can control, right? That being said, meditation has been my new best friend. I never thought I’d be successful with meditation because it is nearly impossible for me to focus my thoughts for more than two minutes. So, instead of forcing my mind to conform to what I’m “supposed” to do, I just let it happen. And last night, I had the most beautiful vision. I saw Ben playing in a green field dotted with wildflowers. He was running and spinning and doing many things that he normally doesn’t do. As I took a closer look at him, I saw that it was the same beautiful red hair, the same deep and knowing brown eyes, and his adorable smile that he rarely shares unless he’s truly joyful. In this image, the love emanating from him was nearly overwhelming. And then, I realized that his childish features had matured. He had a few wrinkles near his beautiful eyes. I saw his manly hand reach for a smaller one… that of a child. I didn’t get the feeling that it was his biological child and I couldn’t see the gender of the child, but I could feel that he loved the child as his own. There was also a woman. Her blonde hair was shining in the sunlight that surrounded my image. She was holding the hand of another child. They all seemed unbelievably happy. I don’t know if they were married but she had two children and I got the sense that she had lost her husband, as there was a sense of heartache to her. I also got the feeling that she was in a helping profession, someone who understood what Ben had gone through as a child. I watched from the sidelines as this fine young man – the son that I’ve raised – showed nothing but LOVE. It was the most beautiful image I’ve ever seen.
I’m not saying that this is how it will turn out for Ben, but I’m saying that this was the first time that I visualized him as an adult. It brought so many emotions, but none of them were fear that it wouldn’t happen. I’m not afraid. And even if that’s not the scenario that evolves for my son, I will live with that image forever in my mind. Until he changes it for himself. And I promise not to bully him if he chooses someone who doesn’t have blonde hair with the statement of “but she doesn’t fit my vision!”
In this moment, Ben is well. And this moment is all we have. What the future holds can change in the blink of an eye. But what I do know, right this minute, is that we are well. My son has no evidence of disease. My dogs are sleeping soundly. My fingers are wildly typing. My heart is still beating. And my son is looking at me. I swear… he just now said, “I just want you to be happy.”
So, in this moment, right now, I am.
I am happy.