“Not knowing when the dawn will come I open every door.” Emily Dickenson
Last week I drove my son back to college. That’s always a bittersweet journey with detours into the massive halls of IKEA and Costco along the route. Excitement at the prospect of adventure and the vast horizons that await those who are starting out in life in contrast to my own vantage point just a bit more toward the end of the road. Yet feeling grateful to still be wandering about …
Eight years ago I didn’t know if I would be around to make this drive. My future was uncertain even though I was giving cancer the old one-two chemo punch (and getting punched back with a vengeance!) Entering the first few months of survivorship felt vulnerable and precarious. The truth that there are no guarantees in life loomed large. It took some time to regain my footing, to move into the next moment, letting go of the vigilant cancer patrol that roamed around in my mind.
In reality, you live with a great absence of certainty. You weren’t born with a warranty or any guarantee that you could control the world around you. Yet you are taught from an early age to know the “right answers” and encouraged to plan for what you are told will be a secure future. A cancer diagnosis is a startling reminder of just how insecure you really do feel about your future. The plans you had on your to-do list change drastically …
When I sit with people who are dealing with cancer it’s common for them to have this same confusion and concern about an uncertain future. The difficulty of making plans, deep concerns about their partners, their families – especially their children, sorrows that accompany the realizations of what they may miss, anticipated losses, dreams that might not come true.
Have you experienced some of these thoughts and feelings? What’s been helpful to you? How have you learned to be present in your life? I welcome your comments on what it’s like for you to “open the door” without knowing where you are going.