I read Kathleen's blog post this morning and it really struck me how truly relieved she is.
"Knowing that I can just live out the rest of my life without the pressure of numbers or blood draws. I am just me again."
It hadn't really struck me before of what a huge pressure it was on her to continue trying treatment and mostly for the ones who love her, who were praying for that miracle, who were cheering her on to "keep fighting" when she never once wanted to fight. Fighting isn't what Kathleen is about. And you can call it just a matter of semantics but in this case, I don't think so. And she has not given up on life. Not one bit. She just wants to live it in her own way, at her own time, as her own genuine self.
When I went over to her house today to take her some beans and rice and cornbread, she looked positively joyful. As if a huge weight had been lifted off her soul. There is nothing she's responsible for anymore except for just...being. She's not responsible for getting those numbers up high enough for another treatment. She's not responsible for reassuring people that she's fine. She's not responsible for keeping the appointments straight and getting up and going to them, sitting in waiting rooms, exam rooms, being scanned and drinking radioactive liquid. I can't even imagine all of the things she's been carrying which she can now simply let drop so that she can live her life.
She ate some beans and rice and obviously enjoyed them so much. I don't cook my pinto beans with one thing except a little oil and salt and that's how I'd made them today. Simple, simple, simple. While I was there, she opened an audio file that Lon and Lis sent her. She had asked them to record a lullaby that she wrote twenty years ago and they did and I felt so lucky to be there with her while she listened to it the first time. It was absolutely gorgeous and Kathleen may have risen up off the bed with the joy of hearing it. She was floating. She was smiling as big as the world. The room, already filled with sunlight, became even more so.
Yes. The beauty of just letting go. I saw the proof of that today. And we talked about how she sort of wishes she'd just stopped treatment when the first drug quit working but then she said that no, if she'd done that, she never could have heard that song, never could have moved into her beautiful new house. And I reminded her that if she'd stopped then, she might have wondered if she'd done the right thing whereas now, there is no question that she has made the right decision.
And she's not going anywhere quite yet. Trust me. And while we are all here, I surely would like to learn more from her about the Big Things. Like...letting go when it's time. There are so many ways to do that, so many things we all carry around that are not really ours to carry and all we're doing is hurting ourselves, wearing ourselves out in ways that prevent us from yes, just being who we are. Who we could be. Who we probably should be to live our own genuine lives.
Well, that's what I have to say this evening.
Thank all of you for all of your comments, for you sweetness and kindness. I literally don't know what I'd do without this part of my life. I don't want to even think about that.
All right. Let's all be tender with yourselves, okay?
Much love...Ms. Moon