Spiders

My friend Janel writes in her blog religiously. Sometimes she'll skip a Friday night, but otherwise she provides the many followers of her daughter Ally with constant news, anecdotes, prayer pleas, thank-yous, pictures and honest commentary on Ally's battle with leukemia. Like hundreds of others, I'm a loyal follower and read her blog daily. I'm saddened by it, but also inspired by her, Ally and their army of family and friends rallying around one little 7-year-old girl.

Why haven't I -- as a writer, without a sick child, with a need to address my family's battle, with a promise to many folks to share Dad's news -- been able to blog?

I've brooded over this for weeks now since my dad left. Tell myself I don't have time, too busy with work, kids, life. Tell myself there's nothing to say -- I only talk to Dad on the phone and he's not physically here for me to observe.

Truth is I have lots to say (those of you who know me well aren't surprised at that!). But I haven't had the courage to say it. Or, rather, I haven't summoned my courage.

I hereby summon my courage.

I did need some time off after the Summer of Cancer. When Dad left I went from feeling empty to depressed to angry and then started to pretend this nightmare never happened. Then I talk to Dad on the phone, hear his muddled speech and mourning of his old life. Hear doctor reports from Linda (everything is still okay), hear reports from Heather's visit ...

Guess what -- it hasn't gone away. Dad is still battling brain cancer.

And onward we all go. Heather from Maryland, me from Wisconsin and Dad and Linda back in Ohio. We are all trying to integrate our "normal" lives with the cold, hard truth that Dad's disease is still with us. That's difficult, but we have to blend everything together and experience the highs and lows together. Otherwise, life -- with all it's wrinkles and ugliness and joy -- walks on and you're left holding a bunch of empty hours.

I hope I haven't lost too many followers. But, I am going to do my best to continue to document our story since it's kind of like breathing for me. Can't hold my breath much longer.

This same thing happened to me when Mom was sick: By the end of the summer with Dad, I started wondering if I had health problems. Just felt tired and weak. I felt like I aged 10 years in three months. In September, a group of my dear Madison friends did a team triathlon. They rocked it! I was supposed to join the fun, but felt totally inadequate. But the day of the race was beautiful -- I decided to take a long bike ride in honor of my pals and as a promise to commit to exercising and feeling strong again. I rode out on the trail to Sauk City in the early morning. The air was a bit cool, colors popped on the landscape like an oil painting. The muscles in my legs cooperated with my need for speed. My mind cleared. I peddled out about 8 miles and turned around.

On the way back, I saw an illusion. Either an illusion or just a splendid gift. Rounding a corner, with a hillside on my right that faced the rising sun, I widened my eyes to hundreds and hundreds of spider webs, glowing. I doubt I can adequately describe the scene, but for a good 1/4 mile, I was met with these glittery, silver webs glued to grasses like banners. I imagined each web as an important person in my life, holding a sign: Go, Lisa! Go Heather and Linda! You can do it! Three cheers for Bill! We love you all! It was truly a spiritual experience. I keep thinking, "I wish I would have thought to take a picture with my phone." But, it was so surreal, it could have been a strange mirage and the picture would have shown an empty hillside.

This vision is all the more important and meaningful because I remember Dad's cancer at one time being described like spiders or webs or vines streaking through his brain. So to me, the hillside spiders represent a way to turn the cancer into something positive, and hopeful.

My hope is more frequent blogging, documenting happy and sad. My posts from here on out might be a bit different than those in the past. But they are what they are, and it's not required reading. :)

More to come soon on Bill.