anahat nad

That's it.
From what I gather, there aren't any treatments for end stage metastatic breast cancer.

Though despite her two week to two month prognosis, she's getting an eye surgery tomorrow night, so she 'can see which pearly gates I'm walking through - I don't want to go through the wrong ones.' She's stubborn and lovely, through and through.

She said, to everyone's surprise, that she already knew this, she just wanted the doctor to tell everyone else. Perhaps the body, or soul, or what have you, really does feel when it's time to let go.

What happens now, to a family tied together by loose threads and once a year phone calls? Our last bit of glue, on her way out. What I wouldn't give to just hold on to her, go back to when I was five, holding out my purple cast and standing under her arm, telling her that I really wanted a green cast, and one day she might be able to fit under my arm, I'll be so tall.

And oh, my grandfather. He's never needed more love.