safe?

Credits:
HOPE {a Lilypad collaboration}
roughly blocked by Kaye Winiecki
font is 1942 report
journaling:
This wasn't supposed to happen.
You were supposed to be safe.
I will never forget those days after my diagnosis as we waited for your genetic test results and Elizabeth's to come back in. I prayed so hard, begging God to spare you both, asking for you not to carry this burden. It was negative--big sigh of relief and thanks to God.
You were supposed to be safe.
That night in March as the boys and I drove through the night, I asked God, I prayed, I begged, "please don't let it be, don't let it be." During your surgery as the hours ticked by each of us getting increasingly nervous, still we prayed, still we asked, and we pleaded....don't let it be, please, God, don't let it be.
And yet, somehow, you weren't safe, and the
one thing that I would never want to share with you, in an instant, we shared. I think that only one who has carried the burden herself can really know the grief of hearing that a sister is diagnosed with cancer, of knowing just a portion of what she will face, the demons that are sure to settle into the back of her mind.

It's different on this side of things
and I don't like it. If I could, I
would take it from you ten times over
and yet, now my heart knows what it would
be like for you to watch and I don't
know that I could turn that hurt over to you either.

Safety, like so many things, is all
about perspective, and you ARE safe. I confess to worrying that it may not be the 'safe' that I want, but I know that you are safe, you are held, you are choosing joy, you are shining as a bright light and I am proud of you, of the way you are fighting, and yet will always always mourn that we (as sisters) have shared more than sisters should ever have to share.