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I somehow missed this picture on Sue’s blog… It makes my heart ache. It’s beautiful, peaceful. Mama in her nightgown and her little straw hat, the beach, and Oscar. I think she knew in this picture – she knew that her fight with cancer was almost over. Sometimes I wish that she had told me. That we could have talked candidly about the disease that was eating her, and just how, exactly, her daughters were supposed to go on after she left.

I didn’t know in this picture. I spent the entire week sitting alone, “enjoying” my vacation days. I’m envious of Jennifer – she was 8 months pregnant, and so spent the entire week on the deck with Mama. Just sitting and talking. But not about breast cancer. Never about cancer, even though everything revolved around it.

I don’t have words for how much I miss her. So much. How can she really be gone? How can it have been almost 10 months without her?
The most common definition of the word “miscarriage” is “the expulsion of a fetus before it is viable.” But the secondary (or should it be primary?) definition is “failure to attain the just, right, or desired result.” How appropriate on so many levels – a baby fighting for life, a mother taking countless chemo treatments to have just a little more time. Both had their lives stolen away. A miscarriage in every sense of the word.
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