Our own beautiful Jen, from the Comfy Place, wrote a post that really got to me today.

“Last night came thoughts about how dying of cancer is in some ways a kinder way to leave those you love behind. It gives those we love time to come to terms with our demise well before it happens. I have even had my Mum remark that she feels she has been grieving whilst I am still alive. One of my close friends has said the same thing, in a sense. She says she has grieved already, she knows it will continue in fits and starts and she is sure that when I do finally pass she will grieve again but I have noticed how people seem to come to terms with their loss whilst the person with the illness is still alive and with them. I believe this is because they can think about it, as horrid as it is to think about the world without that particular person in it, they can think about it while safely knowing that the person is within touching distance or a phone call away. Then it came to me how children may not get this option of slowly grieving whilst the person they love is still alive. I think because we tend to protect them and want to shelter them from anything painful but I believe in cases like this, we are making it harder on them when the person does actually pass.”

Jen needs to have a talk with her sons, one that I have often thought about. She is brave and strong and thoughtful and loves her boys passionately.

There was a time, not that long ago that I thought a similar conversation with my own boys was imminent. Jen’s honesty is inspiring and I will think of her when my time comes.

But I grieve for her tonight.


4 Responses to heartbreaking

  1. Dear Laurie, thank you sweetheart. Thank you for caring and for really truly ‘hearing’ my words. Please don’t grieve too much for me and my boys , hug yours and love them up as much as you can, I know you will anyway Laurie but know that that is what I want you to do. I do love my boys passionately and I don’t want to leave them, not for a second do I want to leave but it seems I must and if I must then I have do whatever I can to make it easier on them whilst I am still here, I simply must and I must be grateful for that chance. Love to you Laurie and many thanks. x

  2. imstell says:

    Jen – I repeat my sentiments from Laurie’s blog… My heart bleeds for you, Jen, and your boys. I sat on my couch reading your post and bawling my eyes out. We’ve all gone there in the dark of the night. How right you are that the pain has no equal on this earth. I am so very, truly sorry that you must actually follow through with your family.

    Each and every time I hold my boys I think of you and how grateful I am not to have an unspoken conversation hanging over our heads. I pray their hearts are open when you talk and God guides your words.

  3. I went over to the Comfy Place and read the entire post.

    What a hard post — for Jen to write, for me to read.

    I have often thought about that aspect, that our loved ones have a chance to let us go, even as we are still here.

    I am particularly terrified about the pain that comes at the end.

    I did not have pain in the beginning, but I have pain now. It started out as a small, dull pain. I now take mild pain killers all the time. The type and quantity are slowly and steadily on the rise.

    I find myself thinking, If I am going to live with this for years, they need to find a way for the pain to stop getting worse….

    Anyway, don’t want to burden you with my issues. Though if you have any insights, I’d love if you could send them to me via email (coffeeandchemo@gmail.com)

    Jen — my prayers are with you, for strength, love, support, comfort, and peace.

  4. bcjenster says:

    Heartbreaking is right. Jen, you and yours are never far from my thoughts and my prayers.

    God bless you.

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