Cancer seems to be claiming a lot of victims lately. Probably no more or less than it usually does, but when it’s hitting the people I know and love, all within a short period of time, it seems to be a more significantly malevolent force than usual.

Goodbye Ernie. What will Gerrie do without you? I remember sitting with you at Donna’s kitchen table, around Easter time last year. Your cancer clinic was closed for the Easter holiday, and so they kicked you out for the duration. Too wracked from chemo to go home, you hunkered down at Ken and Donna’s house, sleeping on the couch when you weren’t sleeping on the bed, always exhausted, never hungry, your skin thin and loose and grey. Donna had made some banana bread, and left it on the table for us, mostly hoping that you would eat something. I made some tea, and I asked you about how you met Donna’s sister, Gerrie. You smiled then; your whole being warmed up when you told me the story. Friends for years, you first met when you were working at the bar that Gerrie frequented. She went through one asshole husband, and then another, and eventually you found each other again, and ventured beyond friendship. You were great together.

Gone: Just a few months ago, my cousin Simone, the beautiful, hilarious, sparkling light of her family.
Just yesterday, Elaina, only five years old. What must her young mother be going through?

Fighting: Our family friend George, wonderful, warm and funny man—I always think of him with his eyes crinkled up and sparkling with laughter.
Gabrielle’s niece, who only recently moved to Ontario to be with the love of her life. She’s only two years older than me…

All I can do is send love, all of my love, and all of my hope. This world deals out wicked shit sometimes.

Cancer sucks.