and to tell you how fun it was to drink Bloody Mary’s all day on the beach, dance ’til the wee morning at Mango’s, recover with a sixty-minute massage, and then do it all over again, but I made the mistake of opening my email.
One of my husband’s dearest friends was just diagnosed with inoperable pancreatic cancer. His doctors have given him 90 days. Frankly, I am sick at the news. Sick at the memories it brought back. The feelings of helplessness, and disbelief, and fear so deep I thought I was going to faint in front of the surgeon.
I will never forget that day. And maybe tomorrow, when I’ve forced this pain that’s bubbled up back in its little box, I’ll take a stroll down South Beach memory lane. But today I’m going to pray for Don. Thank you for doing so, too.