Peace

     Another friend died today. Or maybe yesterday. I got the news today. (Oh boy.)

     I know a fantastic bunch of women that I have never met. We came together because of our common denominator, ovarian cancer. We share our lives with each other in cyber space, in the cloud. We talk about our similarities in diagnosis and treatment and side effects and other cancer stuff. We also talk about our families and travels and hobbies and triumphs. We can discuss harrowing topics that normal people shirk. We can rejoice in the simplest things that normal people take for granted.

     Because of the reason for our connection, and maybe because of the intimate nature of our connection, we can never really escape the slow, deep, dark, undercurrent of the reality of our futures. We see it happen to our friends. We know the statistics. We know that less than half of us have a chance to survive for 5 years after diagnosis. We choose to ignore those effing statistics. Who wants to go around knowing that half of your friends will die within 5 years? No one. That's why we ignore those effing statistics. Don't get me wrong, we know the numbers, we just choose to live life in spite of those numbers.

   But those numbers catch us anyway. My friend was caught. I cried. Then I cursed. I cried again. I left the house. Searching for I know not. I ended up at the labyrinth garden and paced the path. Then I barged ahead toward my favorite spot at the outlook. I heard boisterous voices ahead. I turned and stomped down the path in the opposite direction. There it was. A spectacular affirmation of life. A falcon in the bare treetop just over my head. She perched on the branch, turned her head to look at me, then turned her whole body with a heavy hop to face me. She turned her head to each side, stretching her neck into the sky. She eyed me for awhile and let me walk closer. She posed for me while I snapped several pics on my phone. Then she spread her wings in a whoompf and took flight over my head. I craned to watch and her wings seemed to span an easy 6 feet. I could see the detail of the little feathers under her wings. She seemed close enough to touch in that weird way your eyes play tricks on you. Wow!!

    I inhaled with a gasp and a smile. I was filled with joy. I thanked her, yelling after her as if she would answer me. It was then I knew my friend had peace. And that gave me peace too.