Thursday, September 3, 2015

The Choice....

 I love the fall season. I love when the nights become longer and the days drift in to a lazy coolness. I love fallen leaves, especially now since I’m not spending all of my Saturday's removing them. I love the fall colors. And I love Halloween.

But with fall comes a heavy sadness. I become teary easily. I have less patience with myself and others. It takes me a few days to realize that I’m moving into the season when Jillian started to go downhill. And once she started, the ball gained speed with its momentum. Once that avalanche shifted, there was no stopping it.

Until it stopped all together. On December 29, 2012.

 I’ve written several times about grief and some of my Pet Peeves. But this particular post is directed toward those that have no filter. The ones that have no field of reference. No vision of what it means to lose a child to melanoma, a mother’s most precious gift.

They haven’t seen their sister waste away from brain tumors until they could no longer feed themselves. They haven’t been to the place where their once fiercely independent child can no longer get out of the bathtub without help. They haven’t had to sit and listen to the wracking sobs coming from a sibling, when their own heart has been shattered into a thousand pieces.

 This post is for the persons that sit safely behind their judgments.
 Because just when I’ve thought I have heard it all, I hear that Jillian had a choice.That most of you with melanoma had choices.

That these beloved people, our family, my daughter, my melanoma family, have chosen to spend their time primping and preening. They’ve chosen to get that beautiful tan by entering into a tanning bed. Or by laying in the sun. And because of that choice, they get what they deserve. They get melanoma. DUH!! Now I feel better. Now I know!! Thank you for your insight!

 Shame on you.

 I am hoping that you never, ever, in a million years have to experience the loss and the pain of losing a loved one to this vicious disease because of a choice they've made or otherwise.

But if you do. I’ll be here to support you, and to love you. This is my choice.

 PS. Do Not Mess With Mama Bear.

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