I'm slipping. Not sure if this post will end so "joyous".
It was wonderful this weekend to watch Kristin play in the surf with Belle. To watch these two girls I love frolic and be filled with so much joy together.From the weekend we had together you'd think I'd come home elated by life and everything around me.
At some point this weekend I let it out. I said something I really haven't said. The only thing I'm angry at God about is that I didn't get to have a child with Kristin. Now, it's a kind of blessing. With my death being imminent I'm very thankful I'm not leaving a small child behind along with everyone else. But I really think we would have been pretty good parents. We would have given our kid love. I wouldn't have been perfect. But I would have liked the opportunity.
Part of my "anger" is that I never really wanted a child. Not until I fell in love with Kristin. Why would God suddenly give me that desire just to take it away. I don't know. But He does.
I'm also hurting. My body feels like the chemo is finally having a major effect. I was able to skip chemo this past week... but still had symptoms. Still drained and emotional. Still in pain with skin cracking and bleeding. Still not feeling like who I was before. Before all this started.
Don't feel like myself anymore. Can't do the things I used to. Can't think like I used to.
The biggest problem right now? I spend every moment, good and bad, wondering if it will be my last. Is this the last road trip? The last time I pet Belle? The last time I laugh with my parents? The last time I hold my wife?
What waits on the "other side" is so much more amazing than anything here. But, being here, nothing feels as good as Kristin in my arms. Nothing sounds as amazing as when she says she loves me. To paraphrase a friend this week, "We already know how this story ends." And I do. I know. I don't have any doubt.
But I'd like more time. More quality time. Not time laden with pain and a ticking clock.
Tonight I'm working on choosing joy. But feel like I'm sitting somewhere in a field alone. Like I've been stood-up on a blind-date by life.