Crushed

Have you ever felt like things were just coming apart at the seams and there was nothing that you could do about it? Like the weight that's put on your shoulders is too much to bear? I feel that way right now, and right here at Christmas, no less.

I found out this week that my Papaw has cancer. It's fast growing and most likely terminal.

I've been trying to write this post since Wednesday in hopes that it will help clear my heart and head but mostly I've just sat at the computer and cried. Honestly, I've sat just about every where and cried. I wish you knew my Papaw. He's kind of got that 'gruff old man' exterior but he loves me and mine like no other ever has. He's been the most constant, loving, present man in my life for, well, my whole life. Closer than my dad or my other grandpas. Most every memory I have has him in it, even from the earliest ones. And it is crushing me right now to think that we don't have many more memories to make together.

I know that sounds so dramatic...and you know me, I don't mind the drama...but in this case it's true. It is dramatic to think that someone that I love and admire so much could be gone so much sooner than I ever thought. Part of me is grieving for him...what he must be thinking about and going through...the fear and pain, both physical and emotional. Part of me is grieving for his wife, my Mamaw...how worried and scared she must be...knowing that she'll soon be facing the unknown alone. Part of me is grieving for me...I just can't imagine him not being here every time I drop by or pick up the phone...knowing that he's got to face this ugly disease and there is absolutely nothing that I can do change it for him.

I think mostly, though, I'm grieving for Preslie. I wish I could explain to you how much she loves her Papaw. She talks about him all the time and we visit him at least once a week. He 'sneaks' her candy and I pretend not to see. They watch cartoons together. They play babies and run races and rock in his big recliner. They swing in the porch swing and eat popsicles and drink sweet tea that I also pretend not to know about. They play with his cats and read the paper and give high fives and laugh together and share secret smiles...all the things a kid and her great-grandpa should do. They love each other SO much and it is just tearing my heart apart to know that she'll never even remember just how much. Even though she has no idea what's going on now or what's to come, it's hurting me for her already.

I know that without a miracle, this will likely be our last Christmas together. That thought alone is enough to make me weep, never mind all that will go on between now and that terrible time. I'm trying hard, though, to enjoy all of the Advent festivities because I know that's what he wants me to do...and what I should do. I'm trying to be the fun, attentive mama that my baby girl needs and deserves right now. We're doing all of the 'extras' that come with the holiday season and we're trying to keep up all the traditions that we've celebrated in the past. We've visited Santa and decorated the tree and baked Christmas cookies and candies. We've shopped and wrapped and given gifts. We've sang 'Jingle Bells' about a million times. We've had pictures made and sent out Christmas cards. We're going to parties and gatherings and are trying to act like every thing's okay. I have to tell you, though...my heart just isn't in it. My heart is in shreds and I don't feel the joy of the season right now at all.

I know all the cliched sayings..."He's lived a good life" and "He'll be in a better place" and all that. I know "he wouldn't want you to feel this way" and that I should "make the most of the time we have left". Intellectually, I know all those things but they're no comfort right now. Right now, I want to go back to the beginning of the week and start over again. I want to cry and scream and throw a fit until things go back to the way that they used to be and the man I've loved the most and the longest isn't counting down the days of his life. I want for my Papaw not to have stinking, rotten, filthy cancer. That's what I want for Christmas, as illogical and selfish and childish as it may be. How am I supposed to celebrate the season and have the peace and joy that it should bring knowing what he's facing? I just can't seem to do it. I'm crushed.

Cancer, my friends, sucks. There are no words strong enough to tell you how much I hate it.