"I have breast cancer," my dear friend said, matter of fact, across the dinner table. Nothing could have prepared me. She's the healthiest (emotionally and otherwise) person I know. Isn't that always the case with this dreaded diagnosis? Seemingly unreal. Bad fiction, but worse. She's the first peer in my inner circle to utter those words. I should consider myself lucky. We are women of a certain age. They caught it early and she lives near the best medical facilities on the planet, so she will beat it but her arduous journey has just begun.
There were tears, hugs, chin-up reminders. And some level of shock. My friend stood by me through thick and thin, headwinds be damned. Sisterhood first. She embodies it. I didn't let myself FEEL the sadness until my yoga teacher used Patty Griffin's song, Heavenly Day, for savasana the next day, during which I let the heartache in ... and the tears out.
In that instant, I had a crystal clear vision of all women truly supporting each other. Following my friend's example.
Seizing each day as heaven sent.
Not pissed. Not threatened. Not blaming. Not proving anything.
Just holding.
How much healing could happen?
There were tears, hugs, chin-up reminders. And some level of shock. My friend stood by me through thick and thin, headwinds be damned. Sisterhood first. She embodies it. I didn't let myself FEEL the sadness until my yoga teacher used Patty Griffin's song, Heavenly Day, for savasana the next day, during which I let the heartache in ... and the tears out.
In that instant, I had a crystal clear vision of all women truly supporting each other. Following my friend's example.
Seizing each day as heaven sent.
Not pissed. Not threatened. Not blaming. Not proving anything.
Just holding.
How much healing could happen?
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