Missing Wade

I referenced in my last post my brother Wade, his battle with cancer, and his subsequent home going. I really thought for some reason that I would be able to just mention that and move on, but I was wrong. Instead my mind has been flooded the rest of the day with thoughts about that time in my life and how it has affected my life since then. Please forgive me if anything is a little off, as I am only telling as I remember. Time makes some memories fade and others are heightened.

In the fall of my junior year of high school, Wade, who was ten years older than me, was diagnosed with lymphoblastic lymphoma. In November 1991, Wade turned 27 and began treatment. I remember his hair falling out and him getting weaker. My junior year was a mix of typical teenage activities and nights of rushing to the hospital with my family when Wade had seizures at the house. In May 1992, I remember coming home from my senior ring ceremony to get Wade to be among the first to turn my ring. It was hard to go on the high school mission trip and to youth camp that summer for fear of what would happen while I was gone. During the last week of July, I remember overhearing some people talking about a vision Wade had of an angel or maybe Christ and how it would not be long. July 31st, I stayed with my mom as she spent the night with Wade. Early on the morning of August 1st, all went quiet as Wade took his last breath. I called to tell my dad and sister that Wade was gone. Subsequently, my senior year was covered by the fog of grief, which we all dealt with in different ways.

For the next ten years, I would live in fear that too would be my fate. I wondered if I would have the word "Cancer" pronounced over me. When I got married, I wished Wade was there.  When I graduated from college and seminary, I wished he was there. When I turned 28, I felt victorious! I had lived longer than Wade and had somehow escaped that dreaded word. I was happily married, pregnant with my first child, and on our way to the mission field. Life was not perfect, but it felt pretty close.

Every one of the ten years since then felt like a gift. They were not perfect and nor was I, but I felt blessed to have the opportunities that I did. I began to realize more and more what a gift each day, not just year, was, especially this past year. I came to the point of embracing my season of life. I did not long for the past nor was I overly eager for tomorrow. This embracing played out in lots of areas including, but not limited to, my hair. I grew it out to be its natural color, whatever that was going to be. My hair was full of "wisdom highlights", also known as grey. I knew I needed to savor the moments I had with my children because they would be gone far too soon.

Then this summer that word "Cancer" came back into my life, into my family's life. Why now? Why this time? "The field is white unto harvest but the workers are few." Too much work is left for us to be gone now. Why my mom? How can she go through this again, watching another child fight this fight? As a mother, I would rather be the one sick than see my children hurting. Far greater than any self concern when I was given the official word was concern for my parents who would have to go through all of this again. The same Lord who has given me the gift of the last few years is also walking my family through this time as well. I am missing Wade but gearing up for my own fight!