For the rest of the A to Z April Challenge,
I’m letting the songs speak for me.
No commentary,
no echo back to myself —
just music.
Still, I’d love your comments.
I’ll be here, answering.
I’m a responder in more ways than one.
This shift — this quieting —
is because I feel myself slipping.
And the whole point of changing course
was to reach for something lighter.
But life doesn’t always follow the theme.
The 15th is my re-scan.
I try not to think about it,
but the truth is
I’m in pain,
and I’m scared.
I need to say it out loud
so it stops echoing inside me.
B has been steady through it all,
patient,
listening
as I spiral.
From the 17th to the 19th,
I’ll be in Austin —
a change of place,
a small pocket of relief.
Last time, the waiting stretched thin —
six days that felt like forever.
So I’ve done the math.
The 21st is the day
I’ve quietly marked.
And in the space between now and then,
my mind has gone everywhere —
every ending,
every possibility.
My mother died at 62.
My Oma, pancreatic cancer. One month shy of 70.
And now, too close,
my coworker’s brother, 55.
Stage 4.
Terminal.
It’s hard not to connect the dots
even when you don’t know
if they’re yours to connect.
I’ve planned my funeral.
Then my care.
In that order.
Of course.
The worst case —
I’m gone.
Not for me,
but for B
and the kids.
The middle —
I fight,
or I don’t.
Because I’ve seen how sometimes
the cure asks more
than the disease.
And the best —
the quiet miracle —
nothing changes.
Or better yet,
it disappears.
There’s no knowing which story
will be mine.
But saying it —
placing it here —
keeps it from
rattling around inside me.
As always,
more to come.