Scandinavian Legend

I love writing. I love that I can pour my thoughts, feelings and fears onto a keyboard and somehow while getting them out, my heart feels soothed. I don’t care if no one reads this or if when they do, they disagree with something Ive written. I don’t write for anyone but myself. Sometimes I have a very complicated mind, somewhat pessimistic when it comes to self-reflection.

This coming weekend, I’m speaking at a funeral. I’m taking words that I’ve written about someone I love very much and sharing them with others. This is something I want to do. I want to share stories and memories and share all the love that I have for my gram. I need other people to hear and understand what she meant to me. I have to tell them what I got to have and do and see with her. They need to feel what’s in my heart through the words that I speak. I want them to know the richness that was gifted to me because of this woman. She gave me my mom. Because of her, I have my very own family.

I have so much to say and share. Here’s to hoping Gram can take a break from Grampa for a little bit in heaven to hear my words. Here’s to wearing my heart on my sleeve. Here’s to the strong, opinionated and crazy woman I am because of her. Here’s to my life. May I leave half the legacy that she has.

Beauty Beholder

Today is the day my appearance changes forever, and hopefully for the last time. In a few hours, I’ll begin my five hour appointment with a woman in Minneapolis that I’ve trusted with my largest organ. Poor girl has no idea how important this is for me.

Today is a solo mission. It entails 5 hours of connecting the dots with a delicate hand and a fine needle piercing my skin thousands of times repeatedly while I lay perfectly still and ask for more. And that’s just the beginning. My next session, I’ll hopefully have my daughter and my brother both with me so they can also delight in the festivities.

Last night, as I was saying goodnight to Beckham, he begged me not to go today. He cried and said, “cancer changed you so much and I don’t like that! I like how you look now. I don’t want you to change!” That. Was. Hard. Beckham never talks about cancer. Not ever. Didn’t then and doesn’t now. But he sure did last night.

So, well, here I am. Today is the day. This brand new ink should cover up 3 major surgeries, 7-8 drain scars, an old homemade tattoo and 2 years of cancer hell.

I wonder if CB has any idea how monumental this is. This poor girl probably didn’t see me coming.

Before: