One year. A short reflection, a birthday.

I know I owe this blog a reflection post, and I’ve written it exactly five separate times over the course of two months. But I don’t feel like being super personal on this blog lately, so I’ve decided keep this somewhat short. This guy turned a year older Wednesday, a very different person than he was exactly one year ago today. I would like to embarrass myself by admitting that this season of Parenthood, which deals with a character having breast cancer, is bringing up so many old wounds that I can barely even type this sentence without crying. The show can be so melodramatic and brings out many eye rolls from me at times (probably why I love it so much), but I feel like it’s one of the first times I’ve seen cancer so accurately depicted on TV before, how unbelievably sick chemo makes you and how no one quite understands how hard and awful it is to be even at 50% capacity of yourself. And how it’s not just hard on the person who is sick, but the person taking care of them. It changed me at the core to try to be a better person to the people around me. We drove by the hospital the other day, something we never do, and our hands found each other without speaking a word; it hurt to even be in its presence.

I feel bad because I’ve been so buried with work lately that I’ve been a ridiculously neglectful partner, even having to postpone his birthday dinner for another day. But he is a man of simple pleasures, and I think an evening to himself to play video games without me nagging him to pay attention to me was probably the best birthday evening of all.

A year ago feels like a bad dream, so far behind us that I admit that I recently lost sight of how grateful I am. Scars and consequences pop up from time to time, you don’t leave chemo completely unscathed like it’s no big deal, but I need to wake up to each morning of normalcy and thank every inch of this universe that I get to move forward with him by my side, healthy.