Two years ago…
Two years today. Life shifted off its comfortable, wonderful, sometimes predictable axis. Never to return. It’s been two years since we hopped into the car after a sleepless night in Bend. Hayley writhing in pain, throwing up all night. Both of us scared, trying to rationalize the irrational. What is happening? What should we do? Our hosts for the weekend, one of them a doctor, told us to get to the ER as quick as possible. We decided to make the trip back to Medford so at least we’d be near home. I barely remember the drive, but I do remember Hayley shifting constantly in her seat. Trying to find a comfortable position. Her strength and grit being tested with each small bump or tight curve. She had just run 12 miles up at Smith Rock the day before. What is going on? We’d finally get answers in the ER with a doctor coming in and telling us she had a bowel blockage that was most likely cancer. Hold up. Cancer?
Two years ago today. It’s less of a milestone and the furthest thing from an anniversary. But there’s something about marking the occasion that had me revisiting the idea of continuing to add her words to this place, along with some of my own. I’m in the early stages of combing through stacks of journals, diaries, notebooks, Google docs, and planners, filled with more of her writings. In time, I plan on sharing these. She had no definitive plans for them other than to ensure I kept them all, with the instructions, “You’ll know what to do with them.” No pressure. It feels only natural to share them, the way she shared her love with others.
It may surprise you, but I fancy myself a bit of a writer. In the sense that I’ve fostered a daily writing practice dating back to around the time Hayley was first diagnosed. Mostly random musings, airing of grievances, cursing the unfairness of cancer, life planning, and even some poetry. The quality is several grades below what you’re used to if you've been an avid reader of the Chronicles. I would occasionally share some writing with Hayley, and she always gave the best feedback. She made me feel like Emerson, even if the recommendations were better suited to a college-level creative writing student. I have things to share and stories to tell. Memories to hold dear, and life to step toward. Grief to process and catharsis to seek. If you’re willing to come along with me, I’m committed to staying true to Hayley’s spirit of honesty, curiosity, and humor. And cats.
ES
