One

I don’t know what is harder, the emotional or physical preparation of what is about to happen. Not that it matters. I take a deep breath and silently pray for courage to get through this day. I wasn’t blind going into this; I know the list of possible consequences could be endless, but, I know this is best for all of us. I have played this conversation in my mind a thousand times, still knowing the moment is here makes my stomach knot up and I find myself fighting hard to stifle the urge to vomit.

I am surprised to see them all here. I had hoped some would blow me off, that I can handle; after all, I have lived a lifetime of being blown off by everyone who has ever claimed to love me. This is going to be harder than I thought because regardless of how they feel about me, I love them.

Looking around this surprisingly full room, I suddenly feel out of place even though I am in my own home. They are scattered around the room, broken into cliques. Mom & Dad sit on the couch talking to Bob, my eldest brother while his wife Meghan bounces the ever-cranky baby Khamile on her knee, desperate to calm her. My sister Mallery is deep in conversation with our younger brothers, Jaxon and Thaddius and their wives. The teens, made up mostly of nieces, nephews as well as my own two teenage children and a few of their friends, have invaded a corner of the living room and are laughing and carrying on. How I wish I could have had them all at my wedding 4 months ago. I fight back the tears as I breathe it all in. a year ago, I may not have paid so much attention to the details of this moment, but today is different and I take it all in, the sights, the sounds the aromas. They looked so happy, and suddenly a part of me feels guilty in this painfully festive room.

He slips in behind me and wraps his arms around me, resting his chin on my shoulder. We stand in silence, both surveying the room, both burning this moment into our memories.

“You sure you want to do this?” he whispers in my ear. I nod fighting the breakdown lingering just beneath the surface.

“When are you going to tell them?” he whispers.

“After dinner” is all I can say.

“Okay” he says pulling me closer. I rest the back of my head on his chest and feel the steady, rhythmic thumping of his heartbeat; it soothes me, calms me like nothing else ever has. He has always been my strength. I need him more today than I ever have and I take comfort in knowing that when this day is over and done with, I have him to fall back on. “It’s now or never” I say. I square my shoulders, put on my bravest face and walk into the room.

I am greeted with hellos and hugs and praise for the wonderful aroma that has now engulfed the room. I rose before dawn and have been busy most of the day baking fresh pies, cookies, and of course the main meal along with all of the usual Thanksgiving favorites. I am exhausted and barely had time to shower before the first of our guests arrived. The fuss being made brings a bittersweet smile to my face. If only this is how it could always be, then I might have beautiful memories to help me through the tough times that lay ahead of me. I push the overwhelming feeling of sadness away. The spotlight is on me and I suddenly wish I had not refused help from my family; at least then I could have deflected the light away from myself, but it is too late for regrets. This is all MY doing and they are all watching me so intensely. I need to keep a clear head. I desperately need to disguise this as a happy day for as long as possible. I deserve at least one good memory DAMNIT!

“Photo OP!” my best friend Jolene suddenly shouts, no doubt sensing my discomfort at being the center of attention. Our eyes lock and she offers me an encouraging smile while the group of smiling faces scrambles to assemble themselves in front of the camera.

“Thank you” I mouth; she nods confirming my suspicion. She knows what this day means to me. Aside from my husband, she is the only other soul who would be taking this journey with me and she has been sworn to secrecy. She had always been a good friend. We have a past, a history. She is loyal and grounded. She knows and understands who I am more than anyone. I have spent many sleepless nights hoping and praying she will be strong enough to understand and accept who I am going to become. I remember the day I asked her to be guardian over my children. She was confused; I hadn’t yet told her about the doctors’ discovery or my diagnosis. She’d cried when I said “Cancer” and sat silently in disbelief when I added “I don’t have much time left” Aside from my husband, she is the only person who knows my secret.

The memories of that day come flooding into my mind. It was six weeks before my wedding. It was a beautiful sunny Southern California day. I had decided to take a break from wedding details and treat my daughter Iza, and my niece Carly to lunch; they had been working so hard and needed the break as much as I did. We had driven to the McDonalds with the convertible top down and the music blaring. We were singing along at the top of our lungs not caring about the weird looks we were getting from other drivers on the road. My life was perfect.

It was a freak accident. Iza’s foot had become tangled in the seat belt as she was trying to get out of the back seat of my car. It was my mommy instinct that caused me to jump in behind her to catch her. I didn’t expect to take an elbow to the throat, but in that moment, I didn’t care. And aside from being a little embarrassed, Iza was safe and unharmed and that was all that mattered. I ignored the stinging pain in my neck for the better of 24 hours, but the swelling was impossible to ignore as was the huge lump in my throat that I just couldn’t seem to swallow no matter how hard I tried. I finally broke down and took myself to the local emergency room.

I should have known something wasn’t right when the ER doctor palpated my neck. He’d avoided making eye contact with me as he turned to the nurse and rattled off a list of tests he wanted done. The word “STAT” lingered in my mind. I had watched enough medical drama television shows to know that wasn’t a good sign, still, I was surprised when the oncologist accompanied the ER doctor into my room. Much like Jolene, I’d cried when the Oncologist said “Cancer”. With that one word, my life had been forever changed, and all I could think was “how am I supposed to tell my family about this” I mean, how would YOU tell your parents, your siblings, your children, your friends and your fiancé that you are going to DIE?

His hand on my shoulder pulls me back from my private thoughts. I take my place and smile bravely as the flash momentarily blinds me, capturing this moment in time. I didn’t felt the tears running down my cheeks until I see the concerned looks on the faces of my family and friends. It’s too late, I’ve blown it. I have to tell them and I have to do it now.

The room is painfully silent now, the festive mood having been replaced with shock and disbelief. Even baby Khamile has become unusually still. You would think I have told them my secret, but I haven’t. I never really intended to. I can’t even begin to think of how it would hurt them so instead I’ve just told them that I am moving away and judging from their reactions, it was the right choice. There is nothing more heart wrenching than seeing my mom cry, except, seeing my DAD cry. I hold my breath and wait for someone to say something, anything. As always, my wonderful husband comes to my rescue.

“C’mon everyone” he says cheerfully “this is a good thing. We’ve been offered an amazing opportunity and well, it’s just too good to pass up” I nod, again, fighting the breakdown that has inched its way back up to just beneath the surface and brace myself for the barrage of questions that I know are moments away. Iza is the first to speak. She is clinging desperately to her best friend Addison.

“What about Trevor and me? Are we moving too?” She asks wide eyed. I swallow hard and breathe deep before answering.

“No. You will both be staying here in Arizona with your dad” I say. “We discussed it last week and are in agreement that it is not a good idea to pull you guys from school, especially since it’s your sophomore year.” They nod in unison and I am almost certain I hear them let out a little sigh of relief. “When are you leaving?” Trevor asks next.

“Next week” I say “we need to get moved before winter sets in” Silence fills the room again. I feel the beads of sweat forming on my upper lip and on my forehead and I am becoming more aware of the dampness in my armpits. My neck is throbbing and stinging, side effects of the treatments. “How about we talk more about this over supper?” Jolene chimes in “I don’t know about you all, but I’m starving!” she adds patting her stomach. She turns and walks into the dining room with my guests in tow and I feel a tinge of jealousy. She’s stepping into my shoes so easily. I excuse myself and make my way to the bathroom; I need to escape if only for a moment. Looking in the bathroom mirror I can’t help but wonder if anyone has noticed the dark circles under my eyes or the thinning of my hair. I hope not. The chemo has been rough. I am exhausted and I want more than anything to just crawl into my bed and sleep for eternity. Instead, I splash cool water on my face and touch up my makeup. I’m eyeing myself again when Jolene knocks on the bathroom door. “You okay?” she asks. I open the door and flash a rehearsed smile. “I’m okay” I lie.

“Well, everyone is seated and waiting for you, so let’s go. Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be” I say.

“This is the right thing to do” she reassures. “Now let’s eat.” We make our way back into the dining room to find our guests patiently waiting for us. I take my place between my husband and father and right on cue, Blake stands and speaks “Lets join hands and say grace." Blake takes my right hand and daddy takes my left. Their warmth comforts me. We bow our heads as the 2 most important men in my life take turns saying grace. I am embarrassed to admit that I only hear part of what is being said. I am so lost in my own mind. It isn’t until daddy squeezes my hand that I realize it is my turn to say something that I am thankful for. I am at a loss for words. “In this moment, I am thankful for life, I am thankful for every breath I take I am thankful that none of you will have to see me die” I think to myself. I am once again aware of all eyes on me so I speak hurriedly “I am thankful for this day and all of us being together” I say. This time its Blake's’s turn to squeeze my hand; God how I want this day to be over; and how I want this day to never end.

Soon the table is full of conversation. Everyone is enjoying their meal and the praises begin yet again. This time I smile and say thank you. I watch as my family interacts with one another. I can’t help but think back on the past. I watch Bob and Meghan with their precious little Khamile. She is a beautiful baby with curly dark hair and big green eyes and the sweetest smile. I had heard talk of them looking forward to having some alone time once their older children Kerrigan and Noah headed off to college in a few short years. That dream was short lived with their little “later in life” surprise, Khamile. I can’t imagine having a baby at 47 years of age, but that’s exactly how it’s happened for them, and they have never looked happier. I look at Jaxon and Thaddius and can’t help but wonder where the time has gone. Jaxon and Mel have been married for 7 years now. They don’t have any children. I always thought that was their choice, until I overheard a conversation about infertility and another failed attempt at IVF. They’ve had another failed attempt? How many attempts have they had anyway? I didn’t even know they are infertile. It suddenly strikes me that I don’t even know if Mel is my sister in laws real name or a shortened version of something else. Maybe Melinda or Melissa or hell it could even be Melody for all I know. I make a mental note to ask. It saddens and embarrasses me how little I really know about my own brother. Thaddius and Corrynne obviously do not have issues with infertility, her swollen, pregnant belly is proof of that as are their 4 other children; Jazmin, Jakob, Jeri, and Jacqueline. I have never understood their fascination with J names. It saddens me to think that I will never even know if this baby is a boy or a girl or what kind of dopey name they will brand this child with. Once I am gone, I plan to sever all ties with my past and that includes my family; it’s simply best this way. Mallery is my only sister. I struggle to think of kind words for her, but as usual they are elusive. We have always been competitive and not in a healthy, sisterly way. Growing up, we were always mean and cruel to one another. When she married, I scoffed and said “It won’t last” and when she divorced 20 years later, broken and sad, I jumped at the chance to say I told you so. And on the flip side, when I got pregnant at age 18, she laughed at me and called me a whore. And when I married the father, she threw the warning “It won’t last” right back in MY face. When I divorced 15 years later, a battered and broken woman she too didn’t miss the opportunity to say “I told you so” followed by “You probably deserved it”. That part stung because in all honesty no woman, no person, deserves to be beaten. I don’t know why we fought so much. I always wanted a sister relationship, I guess I just didn’t know how to achieve it, and neither did she. I am actually most surprised to see her here. I thought she would be the first one to blow me off. She catches me staring at her and I turn away. “Who’s ready for desert?” I hear Jolene say. Her question is answered by a loud “ME!” I chuckle. If there are two things this family is NOT shy about, it’s their food and having their picture taken! I am overwhelmed by dizziness as I stand a little too quickly to help clear dishes. Daddy catches my arm and looks into my eyes. “Are you okay Stacia?” he asks with wide concerned eyes “You look a little pale” “I’m okay daddy” I lie “I’m just tired, I’ve been up since 4 am making this meal for all of you.” He looks me over once more and I pray he doesn’t see through my lies.

“Okay then” he says “now be a good girl and go get your dad and your husband some pie” I smile and kiss him on the head

“Sure daddy, what kind would you like? I made Pumpkin and Pecan”

“You said you made them?” he asks “All by myself with these two hands” I say wiggling my fingers at him.

“Then I will have one of each” he says as mama throws him a dirty look. “Mama” he says pleading and flashing his best puppy dog eyes “She made it for me, I have to try it all. Besides, you only live once right?” If only he knew how badly his words sting.

“Yes daddy, you only live once” I say. Mama shakes her head “Well tonight when you have a stomach ache I’m just going to remind you how you chose to live this day of your life” she scolds. He thinks about her words for a moment then says “Stacia, maybe I just have one piece” I laugh and head to the kitchen to get a round of pie.

And that was how I spent the last day of my old life. Surrounded by my family; sitting, talking, laughing, and eating pie.

We arrived on Chappel Hill on a cold and dark Monday night. It was overwhelming at first; the darkness, the air, so still I could hear the thumping of my own heart deep inside my chest. I remember thinking how appropriate this place was for me to be in, dark and quiet as my life would soon become. Despite the fact that I’d slept most of the 24 drive to our new home, I’d spent a restful night sleep, my first in far too long. I am certain it was sheer exhaustion, but I think a bigger part may have been the fact that I didn’t want to see the past, my past slipping away. My first glimpse of my new surroundings came with the breaking dawn. I pull back the covers and slide out of bed; careful not to wake my sleeping husband. I slip my bare feet into the fuzzy blue slippers he had placed at my bedside and smile. “He is such thoughtful man, and I am so blessed he is mine” I think to myself. I watch him sleep for a moment, and think of how much I am going to miss everything about him. I place a whisper soft kiss on his forehead and slip out of the room leaving him with what I hope are peaceful dreams. I hold on to the banister as I carefully descended the stairs, allowing my hand to slide along the polished wood and smile at the creaking stairs under my feet. I stop at the first landing and look up at the 6 steps behind me. The funny thing about stairs is they can lead you to where you’re going or show you where you’ve been. Today, the steps are easy, tomorrow I might not be so lucky. I stand here, arms wrapped around myself, lost in my own thoughts when I feel Blake’s strong arms around my waist.

“Morning babe” he says, his voice just over a whisper, his breath, warm on my ear. “Whatcha doing up so early? The sun isn’t even completely awake yet” he teased. I turned around and instantly became lost in the depths of those ocean blue eyes. “I wanted to check out the house” I confessed. His smile warmed my heart. “C’mon. I’ll get the coffee started” he said taking my elbow and guiding down the remaining stairs, kissing my forehead as he walked past me; I nodded. I couldn’t help but stare in awe of the space that spread out before me anymore than I could stop the smile and tear that simultaneously came to my face. The chemo had been hard on my mind and body in the weeks prior to our move. There were days I didn’t have the energy to pull myself from the warmth of our bed. In those days, Blake had to take charge of the entirety of our daily lives including taking care of me. There were days he carried me to the bathroom and held on to me as I sat on the toilet stool shivering, a side effect of the chemo. Other times, he held my hair back as I vomited endlessly, and still other times he’d collected the hair off my pillow and held me gently as I wept; the reality sinking in. He wasn’t afraid to cry in front of me, and I appreciated that. In a crazy kind of way, the cancer did something I didn’t think possible; it brought us even closer together. It took our already solid relationship and made it even stronger- so strong that we knew that only GOD himself could break us and that is exactly what was happening. A part of me felt blessed and lucky to have this amazing man in my life, another part of me cursed the very God I prayed to every minute of every day. How, after a lifetime of misery, could he allow this man to walk in to my life and allow me to experience true happiness for the first time in my life just to snatch it away from me? The emotions were a balancing act, one I found myself fighting to keep level daily. Some days were good, others not so much. Many times my guilt got the best of me and with clenched fists, I screamed and cursed the world, but through it all Blake never complained- not once; choosing instead, to look at every new day as a small victory in this war we were fighting. Standing here in this moment I feel the depth of his love for me.

The house is perfect; more than even my vast imagination could have ever conjured up. The shiny hard wood floors were the first thing to catch my eye. They seemed to go on forever in the huge space that is my living room. I laugh at the word, living room, the instant it popped into my mind, after all, how much living did I really have left to do? No one really knows. I pushed away the negativity and continued surveying the space. Windows, Lots and lots of windows filled the room making it cheery and welcoming and I like that. I need that. Even now, at this early hour, the still rising sun shone through illuminating the room and I smile. “What do you think of those?” he said handing me a steaming hot cup of coffee. I raised the cup to my nose and breathed deeply, letting the wonderful aroma tickle my nostrils before taking a sip. My eyes followed his stare and landed on a wall of bookshelves and a smile came to my face “Built in book shelves? They’re beautiful” I said smiling. “I had them built just for you” he said sipping his coffee. “Come with me, I have something to show you” he said taking my hand. He led me out the front door and onto the porch. It took a moment for it all to sink in. The house, set high on a hill, overlooking the tiny town below. I stood on trembling legs taking in the beauty of this magical space. “Come sit with me” Blake said leading me to a cozy little porch swing. “What do you think of the view?” he asked. “I love it” I said just above a whisper. “Is this really ours?” I added. “It’s all ours. And the banks” he said smiling. “Do you really like it?” I nodded. And that was how we spent our first morning, sipping coffee, snuggled on the front porch swing of our little blue house on the top of the hill.