I Survived

  Being broken for me always means that I must be alone to cry.  I can't explain it, but that is how I best handle things that I just can not do anything else about.

  Such times came often when I was sick. I would cry because I was in pain. I would cry for the things I could no longer do. I would cry in frustration of the side effects of the chemo. When I became "better" I thought that would stop.

  I didn't.

  Now I find myself wallowing in tears, not for myself, but for others. For those who must also fight this monster called cancer. And for those who die fighting. I think, "It is not fair! Why do I get to live when so many others do not? What makes me so special?" And that is when I break.

  Someone once told me that your mission on earth is done when you die. If you are still alive, then your mission is not done. I am still here. What could God still want to do with me? What makes me so special that he keeps me here?

  I haven't answered that question yet, and so I continue to feel guilty. I know I shouldn't. I know they wouldn't want me to feel so sorry for them. I know they would want me to stand up and fight, for myself and for them. So I will. And yet I know, some days, I will break.