A couple weeks ago, I began to feel an urge to write again, but I knew I didn't want to write another book. Then it occurred to me that I could resume writing in my blog. I couldn't remember when I abandoned it, but I knew in my heart that it would serve me now. When I finally found my way back to the site today, I note that I last wrote a post in spring of 2017. So very much has happened since then. Thanksgiving week seems an appropriate time to reflect on the many things for which I am grateful this year.
Since I last wrote, I have survived early stage breast cancer and Stage 2 tonsil cancer, and it's accompanying two surgeries, radiation, and some annoying long-term effects. And, my last PET scan showed me cancer-free. I've always brought conscious intention to creating health. This Thanksgiving, just a year after my first surgery, I am truly grateful that I am healthy again.
After 27 years alone, I discovered an old, dear friend (John) was a romantic interest, something I'd long since given up on ever experiencing again. After 14 months, I am happy to report that the love between us has deepened and brings me great joy every day. I am so grateful for this second chance at love, companionship, and adventure with this extraordinary man.
Yesterday, John and I loaded a pot of homemade soup, cornbread, and pie, and we drove three hours to bring lunch (they'd call it "dinner") to my 94- and 95-year-old aunties. I am fortunate and amazed that at their ages, they both are in incredible health and living independently. As we lingered over dessert, I shared how grateful I felt to have both of them in my life.
I've mostly retired at this point, although I do have some remaining executive coaching clients which I delight in helping. I am grateful for the opportunity to continue to serve them.
Scratching below these high points, though, the last year has brought me something much more extraordinary. I've learned an incredible lesson. A lesson of love...a different kind of love. When I became ill a little over a year ago, friends--some very old and others very new-- came out of the woodwork to help. I am sure I couldn't have made it without them. I am very grateful that I didn't have to. They supported me in a breadth of tangible ways, and they enriched me, heart and soul.
A woman who had been a neighbor for several years, but with whom I'd had only passing acquaintance, formed Team Kay, Identifying my needs--food, exercise, company--and she became a touch point for all the people who said, "What can I do to help?" She is a treasured friend and neighbor now. Through the system she created, friends knew what I needed, and they were there. One brought homemade soup. Others showed up to walk me, which at a low point meant only two blocks, but they kept me moving. One woman emailed some hilariously funny items, when I really needed to laugh. Another emailed almost daily with updates on activities which had been an important part of my daily life. Different individuals volunteered to get me to radiation treatments and home again every day for several weeks.
One out-of-town friend sent me "a flower" every day from my first surgery until I was fully recovered from radiation. Some days the flower was on a card. Another it was chocolate tulips, and there were socks with a rose on them. A packet of flower seeds showed up in my mailbox too. A Swedish dishcloth with flowers on it. You get the idea. I put them on the back on my entry door and by the end they covered every inch. I was so grateful for the thought and creativity she showed me.
Still others would tap on my door and ask if I felt like company. I did. I felt so isolated, and one day I was so weak I literally fell on my face on my sofa when I got home from radiation, awakening 90 minutes later, still face-down on the cushion. But, I could talk. I loved having time with no other distractions or commitments to really get to know people. Three people traveled from long distances to stay with me for weeks at a time.
We had planned for John to arrive to be with me during what were predicted to be the worst weeks. They were. The pain was so intense that I can't describe it. John was there with love, steady assurance, and interventions with my doctors to get me relief.
I've come through all this with a new understanding of what love is, and I've felt it on a visceral level. Love is a neighbor who made me cornbread at 9 o'clock at night when I'd run out and it was one of the few solid foods I could eat. Love is walking at a painstakingly slow pace when we were both accustomed to power-walking just to keep me moving. Love is getting me out for even a short walk in the national park next door for nature bathing. Love was finding an Eagles concert for me on Netflix when I wanted to be out doing "normal things." Love is doing my laundry when I didn't have energy to do it myself. Love is even a periodic visit from a 2-year-old who always makes me smile and warms my heart. For all of these gifts, I am grateful.
If you'd asked me two years ago, "What is love?" I am sure I wouldn't have answered any of these things, but today I understand love differently. Even as I write, tears come to my eyes and my heart swells in thinking of these many acts of love and kindness that got me through. On any given day now, I take time to remember all the little acts of love that come to me each and every day. And, I am grateful...very grateful for each of them.
As Thanksgiving approaches this week, I am grateful for having grown in my understanding, appreciation, and experience of love.
