I see the humor in so many things and appreciate laughter in every form.
But sometime the reality of what happened to me sneaks in and steals my laughter.
Leaves fear and tears in it’s wake.
I cry out in memory of those moments when I almost lost it all.
I can see myself. Blissfully unaware that I’m just seconds from the change that will affect all our lives.
I yell to me “Call the house and leave a message for the kids on the answering machine. It’s the last time they’ll hear your voice that way! Tell them how much you love them to hold close in the months ahead.”
I try to scream loud enough “You need to talk to Pete! You need to tell him more than the fact you’re sick!”
And I feel it.
The fear and panic as my body gives way.
The anguish of knowledge as the paramedics work on me.
I can taste the future we had planned slipping away as I see the clouds in the window of the ambulance.
“Why didn’t you hug them one more time?” I ask the shell of my body I see before me.