DENIAL

 I sit in the waiting room with my both of my grandparents at my side.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

My legs seem to have a mind of their own, as they continue their obnoxious dancing.

A doctor comes out and talks to the family across from us; a father and his son. The doctor places her hand on the man’s shoulder. The father weeps, clutching his son’s tiny body with everything he has in him.

A course of swear words play themselves through my mind as my heart throbs with sympathy for the family.

The doctor gives her condolences and bows her head before exiting the room.

As the doctor flees the scene, another comes out from behind the ominous white doors. He immediately approaches us, and we stand, anxious for his diagnosis. A list of medical terms leave his mouth. There only seems to be one phrase I can pick up on however.

“It’s cancer.” I sit down, my legs unable to bear the weight as my brain, my body, my nerves process this dreadful news.

My hands fall into my lap, and all I can seem to do is stare at them as the doctor continues to ramble on about how, “We think we caught it in time”, and “The average mortality rate is”, and other important things that my brain blocks out.

“There is something else”, he states in a monotone voice.

My head snaps up, and my heart rate increases at what else could possibly be wrong.

“We have just received the results from the biopsy on you Mrs. Wellington.”, he pauses to make eye contact with my grandmother before looking back down at his clipboard. “I’m so sorry. Your cancer has retu-”

I push myself out of my chair, and walk briskly to the exit of the oncology wing, and then to the exit of the hospital.

My brain is empty, and my body has taken over completely. I pull my keys out and climb into the driver seat of my car. I pass my grandparents car as I speed out of the hospital parking lot.

There is no destination.

I have nowhere to go.

My grandmother is leaving me.

My grandfather could be taken as well.

This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

This is a joke; a dream.

It has to be.

__

I drive for an hour more, convincing myself that this is all fake, and that there is no way that the two people I care most about in this world are going to be ripped from my grasp. I pull my car into a 7-11 parking lot and quickly slam the gear into park.

I run to the nearest trashcan, and brace myself against it as thick clumps of bile leave my mouth. I throw up nothing again, and again, and again. Hot tears will themselves to fall from my eyes and stain my flushed cheeks. Even after my retching has stopped, they still fall.

ANGER

 I walk into the 7-11, checking the watch on my small wrist. I laugh to myself at how relevant time seems when you realize you are only given so much.

Grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator, I make my way to the abandoned counter.

“$1.29”, the nameless cashier informs me.

I slam a five on the counter and walk out of the door with my water.

I return to my still running car, the rational parts of me thankful that no one has taken it.

Night has fallen quickly around me, and I sigh as I step into my car, rolling the windows up.

Music blasts from annoyingly loud radio, but I leave it on, using the songs that have no meaning to drown out my thoughts.

Much to my displeasure, the radio can only distract me for so long. My subconscious finds every opportunity possible to make a connection between the music and my grandparents.

I stop at a red light.

There is no on around for miles. It is just me, at a four-way intersection, with absolutely no one around.

How impossible was this? That when I feel so alone in this, I am actually, physically, so alone.

“You’re wasting time.”, my mind tells me. “Death and more death. There is nothing you can do.”.

Tears prick my eyes, but I force them back. My grip tightens on the leather steering wheel, as I try to get a grip on reality.

“Maybe if you had more faith.”, the thoughts return. “Maybe if you were a better person, this wouldn’t have to happen.”

My knuckles are white, and my jaw is clenched so tight that I’m scared it might snap.

“Your grandparents are going to die, and there is nothing you can do about it.”

“No!”, I scream and pound my fists furiously against the steering wheel.

“How could you do this?”, I yell at no one in particular, my fists not relenting.

“They’re good people! They’re all I have.”, the tears I had been holding in fall furiously down my face.

“You were their god! They trusted you, and you’re killing them!”, my vision blurs completely and the only thing I can make out is the glaring red of fluorescent lights.

My head falls into my hands, and I sob as realization takes over my body.

BARGAINING

 The light finally changed from the tantalizing red, and I turned my car around, and sped off in the direction I started.

I wipe the few remaining tears off of my face, hoping that I had cried myself out at this point.

My grandmother will die.

It still feels so surreal.

To me, the most frustrating aspect of all of this is the faith that my grandparents had in their “sovereign god.”

Personally, I didn’t believe that their was a god, but they did. If they did, how could he do this to them? Wasn’t God supposed to be good and loving, and always there for you? He wasn’t supposed to cause tsunami’s, and world hunger, and give lovely people cancer.

I turned my back on religion a long time ago. There is no god. Religion is made up. It is a coping method for those too weak to accept what is and what isn’t. Still, I find myself feeling guilty.

Maybe if I hadn’t left church, maybe if I did better, maybe if I believed. Maybe none of this would have happened.

Maybe Maybe Maybe.

Maybe this is all my fault, and this is some kind of sick joke played on me by none other than the big guy upstairs himself. God could be real, and he could be real mad at me for doing basically everything that I was taught not to do by my mother’s religion.

Still, who was I to get mad when this was all my fault.

I look up at the roof of my car, not really sure what I’m expecting to see.

“God.”, I barely whisper, my voice cracking.

“God.”, I clear my throat. “I don’t know if you’re listening to me right now, I don’t know if you’re even real.”, I release a shaky laugh while running my hands though my hair.

“God, I know that I’m a crap person. I know that I can do better, and that I’ve done all of the things that you say we’re not supposed to do, but God, the two most important people in my life have cancer. And Idon’t know if this is you, or just the universe, but two amazing people have cancer at the same time, and I can’t face this. I can’t do this God. Please. Please. I’ll do anything. I-I’ll go to church more. I’ll believe in you, I’ll do whatever it takes, God please, please, let them live. Let them live.”, tears escape my eyes for the millionth time in the past few hours.

A few moments of silence pass, leaving me feeling the same.

I laugh at my own stupidity, and turn the volume of the radio up until the words are incomprehensible.

There is no god here.

And I am just as weak minded and desperate as all of the other people who believe in one.

DEPRESSION

 My grandparents are going to die.

There is nothing that anyone can do to save them.

My whole world has fallen apart.

So many emotions have overwhelmed me since receiving the news. I don’t know what to think. I have no idea what to feel. All I want is a warm bed, a cup of tea, and a sleep filled with nothingness to escape from reality for a while.

As I drive down the road I spot a flashing yellow motel sign and pull in.

I park my car and turn off the engine. I run inside and quickly order a room with all of the cash I have on me.

After getting a room, I walk the short entrance to the door, and slide the room key into the electronic scanner.

I throw my shoes off and toss my car keys onto the counter. I pull the sheets back from the bed, and collapse into them.

Thoughts of death and funerals to come, and loss swarm my mind. All I want to do is sleep, but my mind won’t relent.

The image of two headstones side by side pop into my mind, and the single thought makes me lose all composure.

I breakdown into tears, worse than at any point in the night. Sobs rake through my whole body, and I begin to hyperventilate.

I jump up to my feet and begin pacing the length of the small room.

“Oh god.”, I choke out.

“Oh god.”, I place my hand over my mouth to muffle my earsplitting sobs.

My feet falter, and I fail to catch myself before landing on the ground.

Not caring to get up, I hold myself and the cries continue to leave my body.

Everything smashes into one thing around me, and I try the hardest I can to focus on one single thought. A thought not surrounded by grief and suffering and loss. Clarity. That’s all I want.

It seems so funny to me that my grandparents are still here. I’m so upset, and I still have time. I still have time. I knew that, I’ve known that since I found out about the illness, but it never seemed to have much significance.

Now, realization is in my focus, and I can no longer sit here and feel sorry for myself.

I am not the one dying.

ACCEPTANCE

I am driving home a two a.m.

I have been so selfish.

People have it worse than me, some people don’t even have time to spend with the people they love.

Yes, everything will be over soon, I will lose my favorite people in the world.

But today, today is not that day.

Today, we stand up and fight. We fight for more days, for more time. For my grandfather, we fight for remission. We fight for a cure. And then, when the time comes.

We let go.