Out of Order

We're on our way to a "family meeting" with the oncologist. I feel like I'm on my way to prison, or my own funeral or some other equally dreadful event. Yesterday, mercifully, I felt normal for a while. I don't know if it's because other people are praying for me or because I had emotionally dried up, or both. In any case, here we are. You would think that after being told on three separate occasions that Daddy has cancer and that there is no cure rate I would be used to hearing it, but every time is like the first time. Or worse, maybe. It's like they're rubbing it in, turning the knife. "Just in case you forgot, he DOES have cancer. We just wanted to make sure you understand that the next, ohhhhh, year or two are going to be pretty much horrendous."

You know, I think maybe I'm psychic. I've been thinking about how hard I've prayed over the last year or two. Part of the reason I did it was because things have been so damn wonderful. Perfect, really. I have an amazing husband, healthy children, a job I love, a home, a family. I was always afraid that I was pushing my luck because I didn't deserve all of that. When Daddy was medicated and getting his port put in, the nurse said he asked if she had any medicine that would take him back to the '80s. I thought that was funny. I wondered if he wanted to go back because he enjoyed the '80s, or just because he wanted a 'do over.' If I could get ahold of that medicine, I would just want to go back about two years. I could just live the last two years over and over and over. Leaving out the last week, of course.

Last month I was taking Kate home from school and she said, "Mom, Grandma Bernie's going to die first, right?" Grandma Bernie (John's Grandma) is 95. "Yes," I said. "Then Grandma (John's Mom is 76), then Papa a long time after that and then Nene, right?" I said something like, "More than likely, yes." And I believed it when I said it. In her little mind, that's the order of life. She GETS that. It makes SENSE. She trusts God to keep things in order. She has prepared herself for the order of life. Apparently I had too, because I totally misled her. She knows Daddy's sick. I've told her that she might see me crying because I'm sad, but that I'm okay. Every day when I get home she comes running up to me and says, "MOMMY! Is Papa better yet? I prayed three times today!" How do I answer that??? How am I going to explain to her that there is NO order to life? How will I tell her that God doesn't always answer prayer? How will I continue to build her faith when I've all but lost my own?

Dear Daddy,
You know how we both like things in order? I can't stop cleaning since Thursday. It must be some weird control thing. It reminds me of the cleaning parties you and I used to have. Most people would think it's strange, but I used to LOVE waking up on Saturday mornings when you had the Beach Boys playing so loud the neighbors could hear it and you'd be cleaning the house. I loved to get up and help you. Then, after a few songs, a slow one would come on and we would dance together. I loved the feeling of order. Everything was as it should be. Now it's not. I don't know how to deal with it. I feel so inadequate. Would you really go back to the '80s?