Friday, August 28, 2009


I have blogger friends--would they be bloggends? Or blends? Or is that too complex a fabrication? They write their stories and matter to me. When they hurt, I want to make them feel better. I rejoice in their successes, whether it's a clear scan or release from the hospital after a procedure. Kathy is superwoman, probably the strongest person I know. Elsa has a heart of gold and is pure goodness. SG is unafraid of honesty and, oh boy, can he write. And the young ones, Michelle and Lindsay--they remind me of Maura because they are young and beautiful and strong, and I can see when they tire of being strong. They are survivors. Sue and G.H--I don't know them well, yet. All of these precious people chronicle their sarcoma journey on the web, and I feel as if I know them. If any of them visit Texas, I'll expect them to call, and I'll offer them a place to stay. I miss them when I don't see their blog entries or their emails or blog comments. What can I offer them? Not advice. I say it's not so great to talk to the woman whose child died from the disease. I can't give them ham or cheesecake or any practical help. I can offer prayers and cheers and hectoring of vicious tumors (They also increase my vocabulary). Their lives give me hope--I receive so much more than I give.


Elaine said...

Hi Erin: Spent some time this evening catching up with you and your thoughts. I so enjoy reading your written word, and truly enjoyed coffee with you several weeks ago. You are an amazing woman sharing such wisdom and insight into the world of loss. I think of you and Joel so often and continue to pray for you.

SLY said...

Erin you give more than enough. By writing the things you give me so much! You have no idea!

Kathy said...

*sniff* I have tears in my eyes. Thank you so much. Your friendship is a gift and one I cherish. Thanks for being there.

Sue G said...

Whether or not we want it or like it, we are all role models, examples of some aspect of life and living. We rarely know who's watching us, who's listening. And that is true of all people, not specifically people involved in a cancer journey. Our words, our actions, all decree some message, spoken or subliminal.

You, Erin, are an example of love and the grace with which one walks after a devastating loss. You grieve, you laugh, you live, you continue to love, and you appreciate the kindness of people. I imagine at times you even rage against the circumstance you find yourself in, and I know at other times your soul is quieted by the firm foundation of faith that sustains you.

So, you see, Erin, you are a beacon of hope for anyone who loves someone with cancer, anyone who has lost someone to cancer, anyone who knows the pain and the ache of empty arms. You share your story and in doing so, people see that it is possible to embrace life again.

I've always said that cancer makes a family out of strangers. Everyone I know is somehow connected to it by love. I call cancer the great common denominator. We are all threads that, when joined together by our stories, form a beautiful tapestry, woven together by love, by loss, by courage, by faith, by God.

And by example.