Okay, I admit it. As of midnight tonight, there are only 12 twelve days until Christmas. And our tree is not yet up (still sitting in the trailer in the yard). I have not sent a single Christmas card (okay, well, I haven’t done that for years). But I also have not bought a single gift.
Why? Brace yourself: here come the excuses. The good? I decided to adopt a lovely baby Persian kitten and get back into showing. We brought him home last night. But I hate to admit this . . . I think he was a bandaid.
The bad: My best friend, who has been my soul sister since I was in the first grade (we’re talking over 55 years), is dying of brain cancer. She’s at home with hospice and is within days, perhaps hours, of leaving this earthly realm. That’s the top of the bad list.
Number two is my own health: I had a followup biopsy this past week to insure I was still in remission from my stomach cancer. The results are due . . . any . . . minute. Until they arrive, I really can’t seem to muster much holiday spirit.
Nothing short of a miracle will change the fate of my best friend. With luck and God’s blessing, I will get good news from the doctor before week’s end. If not, I will then have a clear idea of my path going forward.
So am I depressed? Hell no! Strangely, perhaps even bizarrely, I am joyous. My friend will be leaving this existence but passing, most assuredly, to one much better than the one we know. I am most assured of that. She is (or was) a wonderful, kind, giving person. Her rewards will be bountiful.
As for my health? I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. If I am destined to be clear of the Serpent “C,” I will consider myself blessed. If I am not, I accept that the Universe has another path planned for me. Not the one I had imagined, but perhaps one better. I believe.
And I have a beautiful, soft and cuddly baby kitten who kneads my lap and nuzzles my face and purrs like the motor on our boat. What more could I possibly want?