I’m like a lot of you.
My mom was a breast cancer survivor.
Though cancer didn’t take her life nine years ago (it was a heart event), her cancer was a moment of time in her life that was defining for her and for our family.
If you’re reading this, it’s more than likely you’ve a connection to Every Woman Can through some kind of cancer experience.
To be clear and to wildly borrow Jane Austen’s words here, "It is a truth universally acknowledged, no one wants cancer, and no one wants a loved one to get cancer."
Some of us feel this deep in our souls because our moms have experienced cancer. Some of us are moms and we have cancer. Some of us are accompaniers through someone else’s cancer, that space of helping and hoping.
All of us are daughters. Or sons.
Today is one of those days that regardless of where our moms are, or our relationships with them, we touch some connection with her.
They are our first change agents. One moment we were in one space, and then through some intense moments (hours and days in some case) and what I imagine to be a wild ride (in my own case), we were ushered into a whole new world.
Our moms literally helped to shape the first moments of life, so it’s no wonder that our attention turns to them when we are, ourselves, in the process of change.
On a (very) basic level, that’s what cancer demands. A change. A new beginning. A release and grief of an old way of being. We are, rudely, now in a space called, “I have cancer,” with all the complexities, complications, and choices that come with it.
Families and loved ones enter that space, too, joined by a community of care givers and helpers who show up along the way to light the path. They are ready to help, steady and love.
Mother’s Day can be a little overwhelming for a lot of reasons - joyful and painful.
Many of you have probably read Maggie Smith’s "Keep Moving, Notes on Loss, Creativity and Change.” Here are a few of her insights for those of us who need a connection today:
“Go easy on yourself today. If you feel a little weary, a little ragged, that’s ok;
that’s how soul hangovers feel. This will pass. Keep Moving.”
And one that’s encouraging me:
“Let this be a time of reclamation.
Today, reclaim a space, a song, an object, a memory that has brought you pain.
Make it new. Keep Moving.”
Today we wish you sturdiness, space to honor your own connection, and big love.
Our hearts are with you wherever this day finds you.
