preparation

It’s no doubt strong Marriages are built on the fundamentals of hard work and a lot of God. Doing the hard things that no one wants to do like having hard conversations, better yet that no one sees but is necessary in order to flourish. It’s like preparation for the difficult things you’ll both endure later in your relationship. The trick is you have to constantly keep working, as you evolve, as you both grow and change in life and in size lol let’s be honest.

James and I had a lot of hard conversations. People often asked how we had so much peace in our journey. Well for one, God but also the willingness to have hard conversations. The crying type, the on your knees praying kind behind closed doors. I often reflect on how far this journey has taken me and know God really gave us the peace to have these conversations so early on in our marriage.

We’ve had many difficult conversations leading up to his departure. From his funeral wishes, what to do with his belongings and also his hopes for our kids and I. But one of the hardest conversations I will probably ever have was telling James he had only months to live. A conversation that replays in my mind often. The news wasn’t given from the Dr or the specialist, it was given by Me. I used to think maybe it would have been easier if it were the Specialist but now, I think of what an Honour it was as his wife to be that person to share such devastating news and be the person to hold him in that moment. It summed up our marriage really. Hard, but love that was so deep it was worth the heartache and the pain.

 After James had completed 6 months of aggressive Chemotherapy from February to July in 2023. We had planned to take our first family vacation. This was in hopes to celebrate finishing his stint of Chemotherapy. Lord knows we needed something to look forward to, it was already a hard year, and I was quite frankly over it.

We were encouraged to have a break for 3 months and just go out and live,  Dr’s orders. His results looked promising, the cancer was reducing in areas that it had previously spread which we were so stoked about. If any symptoms were to arise, we were to get in touch with our Oncologists. But for now, I was happy to not see another hospital for the next few months. James was optimistic and just relieved he wouldn’t have to experience another cycle of Chemotherapy for the next few months.

We had spent the last 3 months travelling and spending some quality time creating memories with our babies. Our hearts were so full. James was so happy, over and over again reflecting on how grateful he was for the life God had blessed us with. Despite being in his position, he knew the good things he had in life and never ever took it for granted. He was finally doing what he loved when he had the strength running his Detailing business, an amazing father and an even better husband. He would always tell me how blessed he was, but we were the blessed ones. 

Our timeline involved Fiji in August and a spontaneous trip to Sydney Australia to send off my beautiful Aunty who had passed. During this trip James had experienced stomach pains much like his initial symptoms before diagnosis, often in the evenings. So, we would stay up most nights just to ensure they were managed. On return we both decided to contact his oncologist to report his pains, and he was admitted immediately. 

It was now September, a rough month. His pains were more frequent, and we had also celebrated the life of another precious friend of ours who had also battled Cancer for years. I remember thinking, God what are you up to? As if he was graciously showing me signs to prepare for what’s to come. From the funerals to the reality of witnessing James deteriorate.

It was a Friday. Your girl was all the way tired. At least I thought I was. My daughter wasn’t feeling too well and so was James, so I scheduled a GP appointment for her. We had a great relationship with our GP, she initiated all the tests prior to James diagnosis as his previous GP had ignored all his symptoms. While I went inside with my 2-year-old girl, James stayed in the car with our son who was sleeping. What I thought was an appointment for my daughter was about to take a huge turn.

As I sat down, I explained my daughter’s symptoms and the Dr went through her observations and tests. It literally took 10 mins tops. Once that was done, she stared at me and asked how James was doing. Before she could say anything further, she broke down in tears and told me she had received his results. Without responding I just stared at her. It was as if time had stood still. I thought, here it is, my worst nightmare, it’s happening.

All I asked was how long do we have? bracing myself. As she continued crying, she told me the Cancer had spread, and it wasn’t looking good. It would be a miracle if he made it to Christmas. I remember wanting to break down, but I couldn’t. I knew I had to gather every ounce of strength I had left to walk out of that clinic and figure out what I was going to do next. I had to swallow my feelings and think of how I was going to break the news to James because Lord knows I wouldn’t be able to keep this from him until his next oncology appointment which was probably when they were going to share this news originally. All of a sudden, I felt this heaviness sitting in my chest, like I was on the verge of having an anxiety attack.

Do I break now? or breathe so he’s in a safe space to receive this news?

I immediately called my sister if she could take the kids for a couple hours and she said yes hearing the shakiness in my voice. She asked what was wrong, but I begged her not to ask me, or I’ll break. So, when I got to the car, I told James my sister called to have the kids for the day so we could spend some time together. He was so confused but agreed. Men lol if it were me, I would have asked all the questions before making the decision but as they do, just agree and carry on. We dropped our kids off and I asked him if he wanted to go on a date, have lunch or watch a movie but he wasn’t feeling the best, so we came home and ordered lunch. I was trying my best to act calm but deep down my heart was aching.

How do I tell him? Why me? Why us?

We sat on the couch watching Netflix and I told him I needed to talk to him. He looked at me and knew something was wrong. Inside I had so much anxiety and I couldn’t even speak but I knew I had to do it. I Whispered under my breath. Please Lord, give me strength.

Before I could say anything, I started crying. I told him that our Dr had received his results and it’s not good. She had given us 6 months at the most. He immediately started crying and time slowed right down. In this space and time, we just held each other and cried, in the home we had created together. No questions, just us, at our most vulnerable, nothing hidden surrounded by silence, yet the heartbreaking was so loud.

All of a sudden, I was having flashbacks of all our intimate moments like this. They were the moments that built our marriage, that made us, because we were willing to be so vulnerable with one another and have these conversations, sometimes disagreements in private we were able to show up every day for each other.

The “strong” that people would see was actually created in the brokenness we had been through behind closed doors. He cried “my kids, my kids…” We did nothing but cry to ourselves for what felt like an eternity.

The 6 months that would turn into 3-4 months the very next Tuesday at his Oncology appointment but in reality, become only 16 days from this conversation….