It all seems so trivial now.

How does someone move on with their life in the same gait after they find out someone they love has stage 3A ovarian cancer? It slows you down, it knocks you in the stomach as hard as possible and leaves you in a crumpled mess on the floor.

I knew it was too easy. I should know better by now. Cancer is an evil thing. Just because everything looks fine… just because they say they got it all… it doesn’t mean they did. There’s always more, waiting.

She’s been my rock my whole life. How would I stand without her holding my feet to the ground? She’s my dose of reality. My head has always been in the clouds. I’ve always been a dreamer. But she has always been the person holding my still, making sure I don’t get too lost in my own head, making sure I’m thinking of all the consequences. She makes sure I don’t fall, too.

She has strength inside her. She has strength far greater than she knows. How do I make her see it? How do I make her understand that I’m selfish and she has to fight for me? She has to fight for all of us. Because we need her. Because she needs us. Because we are a family.

So, I’ll lock my feelings away. I’ll push the horrible thoughts of losing her out of my head. Because she’s here. Because today is still here. Tomorrow, next week, next year… they aren’t now. Anyone could be lost in an instant. This isn’t a death sentence. We were all given a death sentence the moment we were born. No one knows when their time will come. A percentage won’t tell you how long you’ll survive. Every person has a purpose. Every person has a right to fight to stay alive.

I hope she will. I hope she will be a fighter. A beautiful, strong fighter.

I look up to her. She has to fight. She has to.