When what you do is words and there are no words…

Two of the best writers I know are going through the hardest of times, and sharing it with the world. I’m stunned by the beauty and pain, the words they have when there are no words.

Sue’s journey below and Mary’s journey (https://marysmithsplace.wordpress.com/2020/10/04/marysmithsplace-cancern-diary-05/) are terrible and beautiful and brave. But they’re also amazingly full of so many different kinds of hope—for the walk they’re going to take, the chicken they’re going to cook, the life they’re going live. And for all the words they’re going to share.

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

Image courtesy of Helen Jones.

Well, I made a right hash of that.

I was going to post something… then wasn’t… then thought I ought… then knew how private it was… then remembered what I’d told others. Maybe being honest might help someone else going through the mill…

When you get slung into surreal situations, there is a sort of fail-safe that plays out scenarios in the safety of half-buried imagination. Lets you try them on for size, if you like. Get a feel for how they fit. The calm, unfazed acceptance, the screaming fury, the sanitised sanity of philosophical serenity…

In none of them does your oxygen canula keep filling with snot when the tears even you don’t understand keep coming. When it is a relief to have answers you would cheerfully scream at. When the dying becomes the easy part and living, knowing how much it is going…

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