Kicking cancer's ass - day 1622

It's 1:38am.  I traveled from Texas to Virginia and back in the last three days.  I spent most of my time in Virginia at Trudy's bedside.  I'm physically and emotionally worn out.  And yet here I am, wide awake.  Looking up Bible verses about grief, comfort, strength and friendship.  What do I get?  A quote from Dr. Seuss. 

Insomniac blogging at its worst.

Trudy is an easy person to love.  She has made a lot of friends everyplace she's lived (and with a husband in the military, there have been a lot of places).  She has done a better job of keeping in touch with friends from home than I have.  She is the glue that holds her family together.  She is a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend.  Nobody loves her like her husband does.  Nobody loves her like her children do.  Nobody loves her like her dad does.  Nobody loves her like her sister does.  And I can promise you, nobody loves her like I do.

I've never used the term "best friend" regarding anyone but her.  Being inseparable in junior high through college or living thousands of miles apart....the words "best friends" always rang true.  She's the Thelma to my Louise.

I don't really know how to handle my grief.  Trudy is still here, but she won't be for long.  And even though I'm constantly hounding her family and friends who are with her now, I said my goodbye yesterday.  It was beautiful.  It sucked.  I laughed, she smiled, I cried.  We talked.  I hugged her as tightly as I gently could.  She squeezed my hand.  She whispered that it's always been us.... the bond we share is so special and "just us".  Her words.  

I keep waiting for the call that I know is coming.... the one I'm hoping for (for Trudy) and dreading (for me).  You'd think eventually I'd run out of tears.

I need to find comfort.  I need to find the peace that emanated from Trudy when I left her yesterday.  All I feel is sorrow.  I need to smile because of all of the years I had her in my life, not cry because there won't be more.  

We have shared so many wonderful and meaningful times.... passing notes in school and sharing clothes and cruising in my car and laughing/crying over boys and celebrating marriages and babies.  Trips to the beach and getting our first jobs (at the same store) and going to concerts and playing tennis and going to baseball games.  Fighting cancer.  New Year's Eve parties...like this one:

Given that our cancer journeys have been eerily similar, I know there are no guarantees.  Something else I know....whether I live another two months or another four decades, there will not be a single day that I don't hate the fact that Trudy won't be in it.